Simple and Clean
by Amrunofthesummercountry
Summary: Love doesn't start from nowhere, nor does it spring to life over night. From early friendship to the mouth of the moutain of fire a bond has grown ever stronger. Author's Note: No, the fic is not dying(is shocked at the idea)But.....read on...
1. Simple

Simple and Clean

A/N: Greetings from the far corners of the earth!! Well spring is here and for once I did not have the urge to write something dark and angst. This fic has taken up most of my time; I've fallen in love with it and the song that inspired it: "Simple and Clean by Hikari." Its from Kingdom Hearts, and I did not create the lyrics on my own. I've decided to keep my author's note short this time and explain later if you have any questions. Thanks again to Violet Raven (who was the only one who reviewed my last two fics…..) ^_^

Chapter One

SIMPLE

__

When you walk away

You don't hear me say

Please, oh baby, don't go

Simple and clean is the way that you're making me feel tonight

Its hard to let it go……

"Firiel looked out at three o'clock

The grey night was going; 

Far way a golden cock

Clear and shrill was crowing

The trees were dark, and the dawn pale

Waking birds were cheeping

A wind moved cool and frail

Through dim leaves creeping.

She watch the gleam at window grow, 

Til the long light was shimmering

On land and leaf; on grass below

Grey dew was glimmering

Over the flower her white feet crept 

Down the stair they twinkled

Through the grass they dancing stepped

All with dew be…..be….er….."

Samwise propped his head up with his hand and chewed his lip thoughtfully, staring at the word printed on the parchment. It was a long on, 11 letters, and the little hobbit, scarcely a teen, was a bit muddled. He shifted slightly from his place on the floor and squinted, hoping it would make the pesky adjective leap to realization in his head. It did no good. Now the words just looked blurry. Perhaps if he had some more light. The tiny stump of a candle hardly cast a flicker in the darkened room. However, that flicker was evidently enough to catch the attention of one Hamfast Gamgee, and as Sam tried to decipher the blurred word the gaffer knocked loudly on the bedroom door.

"Samwise!" He barked. "You still lyin' awake in there, boy?"

Sam cursed under his breath and quickly pinched the candle out. "I ain't lyin', da," He replied, scrambling to pick up the scattered pieces of paper. "I was just finishin' up my work for Mr. Bilbo."

"Them readings, I take you mean," the gaffer muttered disenchantedly. Sam finished gathering the papers and moved to place them safely aside, but he stumbled in the darkness and banged into the bed with a loud thump. At that the gaffer came in, and scowled as he saw his youngest son hopping on one foot and clutching at his bruising knee.

"Gracious lad, you'll have all of the Row awake with your racket! Ninny! Get your bones in bed. You've work tomorrow, if Mr. Bilbo, bless him, would put you to it instead of learning you all those silly things. Not that Mr. Bilbo's heart isn't in the right place, but them fancy writings ain't for the likes of you or me, Samwise."

Sam regained his dignity and slunk over to his bed, drawing back the covers and trying to bite back the remarks that threatened to hurl themselves at his illiterate father.

"Bless the old hobbit, but you'd be better put in his gardens," Hamfast stated firmly.

"Oh, but I do tend them, da," Sam stuttered. "Lovely things they are, too."

"'Course they are, halfwit," the gaffer said with the slightest trace of a smile. "Tended them meself for years as did my gaffer before me. We Gamgees will always be tending' the gardens of Bag End, and that's just where we belong: outside of Bag End, not in it learnin' of things bigger than us with hobbits of a....higher sort."

"Oh, but it was such a lovely story, Da," Sam burst out, unable to contain himself. "About an elvish lass and the Last Ship and the White Tower and-"

"Elves, he says!" The gaffer exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Sam literally bit his tongue. Now he had done it.

"Don't you be getting and ideas, lad. Elves and dragons! Potatoes and cabbages are better for you and me. Have you got that?" Hamfast's tone left little to be argued. Sam wrung his small hands in the blanket and nodded sadly.

"Yes, Da."

"Elves he says," The gaffer sighed, then, looking at his son's downtrodden face, softened a little. "Go to sleep, Samwise. No doubt Mr. Frodo will be wanting you at work early."

As Ham had expected, Samwise's face perked up a bit at the mention of Frodo's name. The old hobbit knew that the young Gamgee admired Bilbo's adopted heir, and while Hamfast didn't particularly approve of his son's companionship with a "well-to-do" hobbit such as Frodo, neither did he forbid it. In a sense, he was glad that his son had a least one companion. Samwise was shy and softhearted, with a love of simple things, making him a target for bullies. Hamfast knew why his son had become do adept at wrestling. 

"I don't want no more of this 'sneaking to read' at night. Use up all the candles that way," Hamfast said, turning to go. Sam climbed into his bed and pulled up the thin blankets.

"I think you'd like the elves, Da," Sam whispered. "If only you'd let yourself." 

Hamfast pretended he had not heard and left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

The Next Morning.....

Frodo looked up from his book and smiled as he heard Sam's whistling coming up the hill. It was a familiar tune, one that Bilbo often hummed to himself while cooking or writing. Frodo looked back at his book and began to softly whistle along. Subconsciously he began tapping his foot against the floor in time to the beat. Before long the sound of sheers delicately snipping could be heard and Frodo became lost in his reading.

Some hours later, Frodo looked up from his book long enough to notice that the sun was rather high in the sky. He had missed both second breakfast and elevensies, and judging by the fact that Bilbo had not called him Frodo guessed that his elder cousin had become absorbed in his writings and forgotten abut the time as well. However, it was odd that Samwise had not come in yet. Normally, the boy shared elevensies with Frodo and Bilbo; in fact he looked forward to it. It was the traditional time when Bilbo would teach Sam his daily lesson, be it reading, writing, or history. Frodo would normally watch quietly, offering words of encouragement when needed but otherwise not interfering with student and teacher. It had become so habitual every day that the absence of the young Gamgee at noon time was a trifle unsettling.

Frowning, Frodo set down his tale of Fingolfin, stood up, and listened. There was no sound of Samwise whistling. Frodo felt a twisting in his stomach that was more than hunger. Knitting his eyebrows slightly with mild worry, he stepped into the hallway.

"Bilbo!" Frodo called, making his way to his cousin's study. "Uncle! Its noon-time!" Frodo reached the study and opened the door without bothering to knock. Sure enough Bilbo was hunched over a stack of papers, writing furiously while mumbling to himself.

"On the thirtieth day......or was it the thirty-first? Oh botheration....." Bilbo muttered.

"Uncle?" Frodo interrupted. 

Bilbo jumped and looked toward the door with a laugh. "Frodo my lad! My, but you startled me! Time for second breakfast already?" 

"Luncheon, actually. I lost track of time as well....Uncle, did Sam return home ill?"

"Samwise? No, I don't believe so. Perhaps he is still working in the garden. Have you checked there, my lad?"

"No." Frodo suddenly felt silly. "But I did not hear him....and normally he comes in for his lesson at elevensies. I thought it a bit peculiar, but....oh, never mind."

Bilbo dismissed it at that. "Luncheon already you said?" He sputtered, reaching into his pocket to check his watch. "Looks as if you are correct, Frodo my lad. My, but time does fly on occasion." The aging hobbit stood up and wiped his ink smeared hands on his trouser legs. Suddenly Frodo had an idea of why so many Shire folk said Bilbo should take a wife. His bachelor characteristics made him more than a little sloppy. Not that Frodo was much better himself. In fact, if it wasn't for Samwise Frodo doubted the dishes would ever get done. 

"I'll go put the kettle on," Frodo said, trying not to seem obviously anxious. "You should get cleaned up, uncle. I'll go see if Sam is ready to come in."

Bilbo looked down at his ink spotted hands and chuckled. "I suppose I should wash up a bit. I'll join you and the little Gamgee once I am finished."

Frodo nodded and exited back into the hallway. Bilbo laughed again as his "nephew" left and muttered to himself: "Odd lad.....takes after me."

Frodo put the kettle on as promised then went outside and went around the back of Bag End to its gardens. As it was springtime, all the flowers were in bloom and as he pushed open the gate Frodo was met with an explosion of color and a perfume of sweetness. Samwise had only recently begun to work in the garden on his own and so far he was doing a stand out job. However, as Frodo strolled through the flowers and vegetable the talented gardener was no where to be seen. 

"Sam?" Frodo called, brushing past Bilbo's prized rosebushes. No answer. The sun beat down. The twinge in Frodo's stomach intensified. It wasn't like Sam to just up and leave without saying goodbye to Frodo at least. Frodo called Sam's name again, louder this time. The only answer was the sound of the tin cans tied to the fence to scare birds away banging in the breeze.

Frodo kept walking, his worry growing by the minute. What if Samwise had hurt himself? What if he had fainted in the hot sun? What if one of the elder hobbit lads had come along and started bullying him? That wasn't really likely as most of them were too frightened of "Mad Baggins" to go near Bag End's gardens. Suddenly Frodo gasped as a new thought sprang into his mind. What if the boy had been kidnapped? It wasn't impossible. Suppose someone, an old enemy of Bilbo's or someone after his fortune perhaps, had come by and mistaken Sam for Frodo....

"Sam!" called Frodo, approaching the garden shed. "Samwise Gamgee!"

"Sir?" a timid voice ventured from behind the shed. Out stepped Sam carrying a hoe. Dirt was streaked on his face and hands and he looked thoroughly perplexed. Frodo felt himself blush and mentally kicked himself. What a fool he had been!

"There you are, Sam," Frodo said, making himself smile. "Have you been here all morning?"

"Of course I have, Mr. Frodo, "Sam replied as he set the hoe in the ground and leaned on it. The confusion on his face suddenly changed to guilt. "I'm sorry if I worried you. I was off in my head day dreamin'." At that he blushed. "Had you been callin' me for a long while?"

"Not long, Sam." Frodo paused awkwardly. "We missed you at elevensies. Had you gone home for meal time?"

"No sir, May brought me my sup. I didn't want to disturb you none."

"What of your lesson though? Have you finished 'The Last Ship?"

At this Sam shifted uncomfortably. "I did, sir. Got up early this morning to. It was a most amazing tale, it was! But.....Da says I've a-learned all what's proper for me to, and I should bother you or Mr. Bilbo no more about it."

Frodo smiled again, genuinely this time. "Sam, you truly believe you are a bother to us? Bilbo loves having such an apt pupil. No other hobbit-child in the Shire will sit through his stories as often as you do! He adores teaching you."

Sam bit his lower lip. "Da says I'm suppose to stay outside o' Bag End. Says I'd do better good in the gardens."

"Sam, you do a wonderful job in the gardens but you cannot truly mean to stay out here and never come visit inside again. That would break Bilbo's heart!"

Sam shuffled his feet and did not say anything. Frodo could see he did not agree with his gaffer but also did not want to disobey him. Frodo thought a moment then snapped his fingers. 

"Aha! I've got it!" Frodo gave Sam a sly look and then dropped to his knees and, using his finger, wrote a long word in the dirt. P-a-n-a-c-e-a. Once finished he motioned for Sam to come over and see. Sam hesitated a moment then walked over to where Frodo was crouching and knelt also, still clutching the hoe. He looked at the word, then to Frodo's dirtied hand, then finally to Frodo's face.

"Mr. Frodo it ain't proper for you to play in the mud."

Frodo burst into laughter at the serious tone in the younger hobbit's voice. "I'm not playing," Frodo said, still laughing. "I'm writing. Try to read it."

Sam was unsure, but if his future master wanted him to read the word then he would try. His lips moved as he tried to figure out the different syllables. Frodo waited patiently until at long last Sam let out a huge sigh and said: "I don't think I'm sayin' it right. Looks like......pan-uh-kia?" the lad looked up at his elder in doubt, his brown eyes swimming with confusion. 

"Close," said Frodo. "Panacea. It means: a cure-all. Like a remedy for everything. And I do believe that I've found a panacea for this little dilemma. You do not really want to stop seeing Bilbo and myself, correct?"

Sam shook his head quickly. "No sir. I like Mr. Bilbo's stories. And I do like chattin' with you, sir, if you don't mind me saying so."

Frodo held up a hand. "Not at all. Now, I know you wish to continue your studies but I also know you don't want to disobey your gaffer."

"Yes sir, begging pardon, that's just it. Me gaffer's awfully stuck on 'our right place' and he won't let no one budge him on it. His minds been made up and I don't want to cause no uncomfortable situations in the house. Everything's been a bit strained since Ma died...." Sam trailed off and began poking at the dirt with his thumb. 

"Well, I certainly would not want to cause any bit of tension in your household, Sam-lad. Which is precisely the reason why we are going to hold your lesson outside, here in the garden. That way, you won't be disobeying your gaffer because you will not be inside Bag End," Frodo finished proudly. 

Sam twisted his fingers in his dusty curls and gazed at the word etched on the ground. "Why, that'd be lovely Mr. Frodo, but I don't want to hinder you none."

"Nonsense!" Frodo exclaimed. "I shall teach you myself for as long as you like. Although I do believe we should tell Bilbo so he does not think you've gone off somewhere to fight dragons of your own." With that he ruffled the little hobbit's hair and Sam smiled despite his previous misgivings. 

"Mr. Frodo you know I'm nothin' like that."

"Oh? Do I truly?" Frodo chuckled and stood up, stooping to take Sam under the arms and set him on his feet. Then straightening up himself, Frodo said, "I'd rather like a little adventure in my own life. I hope that if you ever get the opportunity to do some 'exploring' of your own you'll let me tag along."

Sam scratched his head, but smiled bashfully. He knew Frodo was teasing him, trying to get him to cheer up. In a sense it had worked. Sam did feel a bit better knowing that he wasn't going to have to stop visiting Bag End. 

As the two young hobbits set about dusting the dirt from their knees, there came from around the front of the house the call of "Frodo! Tea is ready! Frodo?"

"Coming uncle!" Frodo called and then looked back at Sam. 

"You know," Frodo said slowly with a twinkle in his eye and a thoughtful smile on his lips. "I am almost positive your gaffer wouldn't mind if you had luncheon with Bilbo and I. As.......part of your job! Surely he could not object to that."

Sam thought carefully and then slowly, slowly broke into a knowing smile. "Oh, I suppose I could sir. If it were part of my job."

"I insist," Frodo said, crossing his arms in a pseudo-stern manner. "As your future employer."

Still smiling Sam nodded and went to the shed. He put the garden hoe carefully away, then shut and locked the doors, slipping his key in his pocket like a good, trustworthy hobbit. Frodo couldn't help but chuckle at his young companion's seriousness. 

*The lad does not act his age,* Frodo thought. *He's no more than a boy and already he's working and handling all this responsibility...*

Frodo' s thoughts trailed off as a sudden pang of guilt hit him. He'd always known that the Gamgees were not as well off as the Bagginses or their cousins, but it had never really seemed noticable. Now, however, Frodo realized that that was because he had never paid attention to detail. Sam's clothes were too small hand me downs, sewed and patched many times. He had very few toys; in fact, Frodo could not recall ever seeing the lad with any. The lad's face was smudged with dirt from working in the gardens. Frodo realized that Sam's presence at Bag End wasn't there just for his enjoyment. Sam was there to work, enjoyable though it was. Somehow, realizing this bit of information made Frodo feel somewhat responsible for the boy, made him want to take care of him.

"Come on, Sam-lad," chirped Frodo as he knelt down to the boy's eye level. "I'll give you a pig-a-back ride down the hill."

Sam chewed his lower lip. "Is that proper, sir?"

"Proper is as proper does. Now what wouldn't be proper is you carrying me. It wouldn't look quite right for a little hobbit to be carrying a larger one. Not to mention a bit of a strain on you, I daresay. But seeing that you are lighter than I, I should say that its quite proper for me to carry you." Frodo nodded intelligently. Sam stared at him in confusion. Then he noticed that the elder boy's shoulders were shaking in silent laugher. 

"Mr. Frodo, you'll be teasing me again," Sam said with a laugh. In answer Frodo laughed out loud and lifted Sam onto his shoulders. Sam nearly lost his balance so Frodo had to grasp his hands to keep him steady.

"Hold tight, Sam-lad. It would not do for you to go tumbling down the hill, now would it?"

"No sir." Sam gave Frodo's hand a squeeze and looked down. "My, but its awfully high up here."

Frodo laughed and began the trek down the hill. "That's just because you're so tiny. Though I daresay you're growing bigger everyday. I would not be too surprised if someday soon you actually were able to carry me about."

"Lor' save me, but I bet I could. You can't weigh hardly more than a feather pillow, Mr. Frodo. I could get May to cook for you, or when I get better at it, mayhap I could," Sam stated, now more relaxed on Frodo's shoulders, albeit still a bit wobbly.

Frodo pushed open the gate with his hip and went through. "The townsfolk shall think me even queerer if they discover I've a hobbit a good many years younger than I cooking for me."

Sam frowned. "You shouldn't bother yourself with them folk. Always a yarn spinnin' in their mouths, the most of them. And anyways they don't know you, nor Mr. Bilbo neither for that matter."

"I daresay I like it that way." They'd reached the round green door of Bag End. Through the kitchen window wafted the smell of food cooking and the sound of Bilbo humming. Frodo lifted Sam from his shoulders and set him down on the well-trodden walkway. 

The boy mumbled a shy "thank you, sir" then looked up at Frodo to suggest going inside, only to stop and gape. Frodo was looking down at Sam, waiting for him to say something, with the noon sun behind him, illuminating him from behind in an angelic way. Sam was struck dumb by the beauty of the image even with his childish mind. Vaguely, Sam thought to himself *that must be what an elf looks like....A wonder Mr. Frodo is. Simply as that.* Then, noticing that his future employer was giving him a rather confused look, Sam shook his head slightly and stuttered: "The sun's real pretty today, sir." He hopped over to the door and put his hand on the familiar knob. Then he hesitated. 

"I wanna thank you, sir. I'd be an unhappy hobbit if I had to stay away from Bag End. But you went an' solved the problem easy-like. Oh, and if its worth a thing to you I don't think you queer at all, or Mr. Bilbo neither. Right as rain, I'd say." He puffed out his chest proudly. "And I'd be willin' to fight on that, if someone had a mind to try it."

Frodo's laughter was a clear and happy sound. "Well as of the moment I believe we should take luncheon. No doubt Bilbo will be wanting to begin the meal soon."

"That he is, lads," Came Bilbo's voice from the window. "And if you two are through standing on the door step and have a mind to come inside we can begin the first course!"

"Coming uncle!" Frodo cried. Then to Sam he said: "Honestly, you would think my dear cousin had never crawled through the tunnels of the Misty Mountains or snuck into a grove of trolls or walked for days on end the way he is so impatient. Come, lets go in before he eats everything without us."

And that they did, not knowing that that day a fire had been kindled that would burn for an age of the world.

__

You're giving me

Too many things

Lately, you're all I need

You smiled at me....

****

TBC

*************************************************************

Next time: Frodo is joined by the daring duo of Merry and Pippin on a trip to the river. But back at Bag End all is not well. It seems some rumors have been started, namely by one Ted Sandyman. Will Sam take that lying down? Me thinks not. But then what will be in store for him?

Comments, questions, criticisms, the story of your life, etc. are always appreciated!! 


	2. Clear

A/N: Hello everyone! 

Review responses: 

Seregon: You are correct indeed in thinking that this is going to be a long fic! I have it all laid out in my head, too! Glad you enjoyed!

Violet Raven: As always, I know I can rely on you to pump my ego a little bit more. I hope this chapter is up to par!

Iris: Thank you much! I do intend on keeping this "clean" (Hence the title!^_^)

Random note: Pick up the Gladiator soundtrack! Its great! Certainly is keeping my tided over until the ROTK soundtrack comes out....

Simple and Clean

Chapter Two

Clean

Some years later......

"Oi! Its a bee! Its a bee!" Young Peregrin Took was not pleased with the black and yellow insect that was buzzing around his head. It was a dusty, dry summer day in the Shire and the young Took and his cousins Frodo and Merry Brandybuck had trekked all the way to the Brandywine to cool their feet (though Merry, being a Brandybuck and knowing how to swim, had jumped in all together and showed off, swimming about.) They were on their way back to Bag End, where Merry and Pippin were staying for the summer months. This time of year there was scarcely a hobbit to be found indoors.....or a honeybee to be found in the hive.

"Oi, Oi! Get it away! Get it away, Merry!" Pippin dropped his knapsack on the grassy road and began flailing his arms in an attempt to wack the mighty bee away. "Its going to sting me! Gah!"

Merry dropped his own knapsack and sighed. He brushed his still damp curls out of his eyes and attempted to get his cousin under control.

"Don't smack at it, Pippin, you'll only aggravate it. Pip! Stop it! You're going to hit me!" He grabbed Pippin about the chest, effectively pinning his arms to his sides and stopping him from flailing. The honey bee buzzed very close to Merry's face, making him squint and lean back. He leaned farther, farther, until Merry lost his balance and toppled backwards, bringing Pippin with him. Bored, the bee flew off to find a flower. Merry sat up but Pippin stayed right where he was, on Merry's legs laughing hysterically. Frodo stared at them for a moment before breaking into laughter himself. 

"Well cousin, you certainly saved the day," Frodo said finally as his laughter tapered off. 

"Yes!" Pippin agreed . "You scared that wasp away, I daresay."

Merry's scowl wavered then broke into a small smile. He shoved his young cousin off and stood up.

"You're most welcome, Pip. What good manners you have," Merry said sarcastically. The younger lad just giggled again and hopped to his feet. 

Frodo sighed. "We'd better be getting home, if you two rascals are finished with your gallivanting," he said. "Come now, we've only half a mile or so to Hobbiton."

"We'd be better put to walk the distance if we could stop for a bite now," chirped Pippin hopefully.

"Much better put," agreed Merry with a quirky nod. He and Pippin exchanged glances the plopped themselves down on the road and began rummaging through the knapsacks.

"Alright, alright!" Frodo rushed, grabbing at his cousins' shirt collars to keep them from getting out all of their food right then and there. "You'll have your way but I don't think it would do to sit here in the middle of the road like toads. Let's move over there, under the trees."

With exaggerated sighs Frodo's cousins obliged him and they moved to set up a little picnic under the towering beech and oak trees. They'd sat and eaten for no more than a quarter of an hour when the sound of a wooden cart coming up the grassy road could be heard. At any other time the trio probably would have pain no attention to it. After all, they were fairly close to town and the traffic in the area was always consistent. However, this time was different, because whoever was driving the cart was calling Frodo's name. 

"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo! I can't believe I found you! Mr. Frodo? Sir! Sir!" A young, feminine voice cried. Frodo turned towards the voice. It was a young hobbit lass, plain faced and still retaining baby fat, with brown curls brought back in a haphazard ponytail. She looked quite frantic and Frodo vaguely recognized her. It was Marigold Gamgee, Samwise's sister, and it was Bilbo's cart she was attempting to drive. The pony, however, did not seem to understand that the girl wanted to stop and kept going even as Marigold shrieked for it to stop.

Frodo leapt up and rushed over to the cart, leaving a surprised Merry and Pippin behind him. 

"Whoa, Kili, whoa!" Frodo snatched the pony's bridle and brought it to a stop. 

"Oh, thank you sir, I couldn't stop him. I ain't strong enough, I guess. Oh, but thank heavens I found you sir. You've got to come quick sir, you've got to come. Those brutes, they've started something!" Marigold seemed close to tears. She wrung her skirt in her hands. 

"Wait a moment, Marigold, what happened?" Frodo asked, trying to maintain a clam composure, although horrible thoughts of what could have happened flooded his mind. Marigold slapped her hand to her mouth and blushed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Baggins. I started talkin' without explainin'. Its that Ted, sir, that Ted Sandyman and his gang of tomfools. I had to go to the Cottons' to get some flour for the baking (you know the Cottons, don't you sir?) and I had to walk because our pony slipped a shoe. And I had to go alone because Hal and Daisy had chores to do and May has horrible allergies this time of year, and Da is visiting our ma's brothers, and of course Sam was at work in your lovely gardens.......So I was walkin', sir, but I didn't get there; no sir, not even close. I suppose I wasn't payin' much attention, 'cause I didn't realize that Ted was followin' me for a while." 

Marigold paused for a moment. Tired of sitting on the ground, Merry and Pippin had made their way over behind Frodo, who was still waiting for the girl to continue.

"Don't mind us. Please." Merry said after Marigold had stared at him and Pippin for a solid amount of time. 

Marigold blushed again and started stammering. "Beggin pardon, sirs. But as I was saying Ted was following me. I tried ignoring them like Daisy told me to do, but 'twas no good. They started throwing things at me, little pebbles, this and that. And they were saying things too, mean things. I won't repeat a-one of them; not right coming from a lady's mouth. But I didn't want to cause trouble so I turned and ran back the way I'd come. I thought if I'd went home they'd let me be, sir."

"But they did not?" asked Frodo, attempting to get the girl to move the story along. 

Marigold shook her head. "That's right sir, they didn't. So I thought if I went up to Bag End, sir....." She halted and bit her lower lip, a habit it seemed all Gamgee's shared.

"Go on," urged Frodo. "You went to Bag End because you know how people shy away from it." 

"Well, yes, sir, meaning no disrespect. And it worked like I expected. They didn't go up to the hill but they stayed on the road and yelled things about......about my ma!" At that Marigold burst into tears. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed "Mr. Baggins, my ma never hurt a soul. She never did nothing wrong. They were just saying those things because Hal gave Ted a rather nasty black eye. And he deserved it!"

Unsure of what to do, Frodo awkwardly patted the girl on the shoulder. Merry and Pippin exchanged looks and shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly Marigold flung her arms out angrily.

"That's not the worst of it, Mr. Baggins," She growled, tears still streaking her cheeks. "Sam, he was out back tending the gardens as usual, and he heard them. He heard them and when I was just about to knock on Mr. Bilbo's door he came back there, angry something awful."

Frodo felt his stomach lurch and the color drain from his face. Misinterpreting Frodo's expression, Marigold said frantically "Please don't grudge him sir! He wasn't thinkin'! He was just awfully upset, and you know how sensitive he is.....He wouldn't a' shirked he duties otherwise!"

Frodo shook his head quickly. "No, Mari, that is not what I'm concerned about. Please, continue."

Marigold swallowed then went on. "At first he just told them to leave. Wasn't yelling or nothing. But they wouldn't go. They just kept standing there, leanin' on the fence with these mean smiles. So Sam got even angrier and he yelled at them to get or they'd have it. That's when the said it, Mr. Baggins. That's when they called him THAT NAME"

Merry and Pippin looked at each other again, curious as to what 'that name' could be. They both knew Sam reasonably well, due to his job at Bag End, but they knew little more about him than he was the gardener, very shy, and friends with Frodo. Frodo, on the other hand, dismissed the detail. He knew there had to be more to the story if it had gotten Marigold this upset.

"One of them boys threw a stone at us." Marigold's voice broke as she spoke. "It missed, but Sam had had too much already. Don't misunderstand, sir, he didn't throw the first punch; Ted did. Sam wasn't expectin' it and it caught him in the face.....and it all happened so quickly after that! Sam hit Ted back, and you know his strength, sir. Hardly knows he's so strong. Anyhows, he knocked three teeth from that Sandyman's mouth."

Merry tried not to smile, but this amused him. He'd had trouble with Ted himself. Ted Sandyman did not like Bucklanders.

"Then they all ganged up on him, Ted was so mad. It didn't last long I guess, but it felt like forever. It was Mr. Bilbo what broke up the fight. I'm guessin' he heard all the racket. He told that Sandyman to be of and I'd be lyin' if I said they didn't leave in a hurry. 

"But Sam was bleedin' something fierce. Mr. Bilbo brought him inside and he was so embarrassed....and worried that he's gonna lose his job. He's not going to lose his job, is he sir? They were the ones that started it, not Sam, he'd never!"

Frodo interrupted before she could go on any further. "I know he wouldn't, Marigold. You do not have to worry about that. But was Sam alright?"

Merry and Pippin could see that their older cousin was trying to remain calm but was more distressed than he seemed. This surprised them a little bit. They had not yet realized that Frodo and Sam were more than just servant and master.

In response to Frodo's inquiry, Marigold nodded. "For the most part, he's whole and awake. But he's till fightin' mad. I wish he would calm down, but I'm more worried that Sandyman will come back....Mr. Bilbo was worried too, so he took me aside and whispered to me to go find you. Made me take his own cart, he did, though I was frightfully worried I'd harm it...."

She continued speaking but Frodo retreated into himself. He felt extremely angry at Sandyman and the lot, but he also felt guilt. It seemed that Sam's bullying had only grown worse after he started working for the Bagginses. Frodo knew that there were nasty rumors circulating around Hobbiton, rumors of the odd Frodo Baggins and his apparent "fondness for the younger lads." Nobody dared say anything to Frodo or Bilbo's face, of course, but Frodo was not deaf and the villagers were hardly quiet. 

Pippin's voice shocked Frodo back to reality. ".....don't you think Frodo?"

Frodo blinked and shook himself. "Sorry, Pip, what was that?"

"I said, 'We should return quick, don't you think?'"

Frodo stared at him for a second then started and said "Oh yes, definitely, right away. Goodness knows what those brutes will do next."

Marigold clapped her hands together and wiped at her tear stained cheeks. "I knew you'd come! I just knew it!"

Merry nudged Pippin and whispered in his ear "Should we tell her that we were on our way home anyway?" Pippin just shrugged. 

In the meantime Marigold had sat back down and taken up the reigns. Kili snorted impatiently.

"Er, perhaps it would be best if I drove us home?" Frodo suggested, hopping up to the driver's seat beside Marigold who blushed, nodded, and handed him the reigns. 

"In back you two," Frodo said to his cousins with a backwards jerk of his thumb. Pippin, who did not enjoy being jostled in the back of a cart, opened his mouth to protest, but Frodo stopped him with a stubborn look. Grumbling, Merry hoisted himself into the back of the cart then helped Pippin in. Once both had settled down Frodo flicked the reigns and turned Kili back in the direction of Hobbiton. As they wagon made its way down the path, Merry remembered his manners.

"Frodo, you haven't introduced us properly!" Merry exclaimed. "How very rude...."

"I'm sorry, Merry," Frodo replied, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the Brandybuck. "other things have pressed my mind."

"Indeed," Merry said with a cheeky smirk. Frodo chose to ignore the comment and said nothing. 

"Well, if our dear cousin will not do us the honor we shall just have to do it ourselves." said Pippin with a click of his tounge. "My name is Peregrin, Peregrin Took, though most everyone calls me Pippin."

"And I," Merry said proudly. "Am Meriadoc Brandybuck, or Merry unless I'm in trouble."

"Which is often," Frodo muttered under his breath. Merry chose to ignore the comment.

Marigold looked at the two lads in the back and said shyly "I'm Marigold Gamgee. Its a right honor to meet you both." Then she blushed pink and said no more.

They rode a while in silence. Pippin fidgeted and coughed loudly to gain someone, anyone's attention. All he succeeded in getting was an amused look from Merry. Sighing, Pippin settled against the wooden wall and got an apple out of his knapsack. Then he watched the scenery go by and bit into the fruit, chewing loudly. Frodo shot him a 'look' over his shoulder. Pippin swallowed and grinned sheepishly.

Before too long, they'd reached the edge of Hobbiton. Pippin had finished his apple and had started on another. Merry had begun to lightly doze. Frodo's face was still lined with suppressed worry. 

After what seemed an eternity, the cart finally turned onto Bagshot Row. As they passed Number Three, Frodo asked Marigold if she'd like to be dropped off at home. She nodded and said a bit fearfully. "I'd best wait for Da to get home. No doubt he'll be wantin' to know what's goin' on...."

Frodo pulled the cart to a halt and Marigold hopped off.

"Don't worry, Marigold. Sam won't be in any trouble," Frodo reassured. Marigold's face relaxed a little bit. 

"Bless you sir. Sam said you was awfully kind." With that she turned and hurried into the hobbit hole. Frodo got the cart going again and Merry jerked wake at the sudden motion.

"Sakes, Estella!" He cried, disoriented. He looked around, realized where he was, and blushed furiously. Pippin cracked up and tossed his apple core at his cousin.

"Merry has got a guilty conscience!" Pippin cried.

"I do not!" exclaimed Merry. He leapt at his younger cousin, tackling him and causing the entire cart to lurch. Frodo sighed. He loved his cousins dearly but it often seemed that they took absolutely nothing seriously. Then again, Frodo had to remember that they were younger than he, by many years. Frodo was almost of age, in a few months...

His thoughts suddenly halted violently along with the cart as they reached the dirt road before Bag End. Frodo's eyes widened at the sight of blood spattered in the dirt. "Sam..." he breathed, then leapt off the cart, up the path, and threw the door of Bag End.

Merry eased off Pippin and stared after Frodo.

"Pip, I think this is more serious than we thought...." Merry said quietly.

Pippin frowned, confused. "We'd better put the cart away..."

******

"Bilbo! Sam!" Frodo cried as he ran through the kitchen, looking every which way for his uncle and gardener. He took a corner a little too hard, caught his foot in a rug, and crashed to his side with a loud thud. Frodo silently swore and stood back up, ignoring the throbbing in his elbow and knee. 

"Bilbo!" He called again, limping down the hallway. Bilbo stepped out from one of the guest rooms and gave his nephew a relieved look. 

"Ah, so Marigold found you, I see. Clever girl. I take it that she told you everything?" Bilbo stated.

Frodo nodded. "Yes. Where is-"

"Is that Mr. Frodo?" Sam's voice came from the room. He sounded a little panicky. Frodo gave his uncle and inquiring look.

"He's embarrassed, lad," Bilbo explained. "He thinks that you will be disappointed in him somehow. Though I'm guessing you are the only one he really wants to see now. "

Before Bilbo had barely finished his sentence Frodo had past him and stood in the doorway, looking in. 

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, little no longer. He was full grown now, and the years of working hard in the outdoors had made him one of the largest lads in Hobbiton. At the moment, however, he did not look his age. His right eye was already a lovely shade of purple and swelling quickly. His lower lip was swollen as well. There was a scratch across his left cheek and his right hand was wrapped in a tight bandage. Daisy Gamgee had wet a washcloth in a basin of water nearby and was dabbing her brother's eye none to gently; the boy was flinching with every stroke.

Sam looked towards the door when he heard Frodo enter. The faintest of smiles graced his lips for a second, but then it was replaced by shame and sadness. Daisy grabbed his chin and forced Sam to look at her. Sam blushed furiously.

"Of all the messes you've gotten into, Samwise Gamgee, this one takes it. Da's going to have your hide....hold still, lest I poke you in the eye." May snapped. 

Sam winced and said through his gritted teeth. "Hullo, Mr. Frodo."

"Hello, Sam," Frodo answered with a slight smile.

"Don't you mind him sir, he's sorry for what he's done. Say what you will to him, he knows he deserves it," Daisy said, concentrating on rewetting the washcloth.

"He's nothing to be sorry for," Frodo said softly.

"But I do sir!" Sam cried, knocking his sister's approaching hand away and standing up. "I could 'a made a big mess of things, ruined your reputation or somethin' like that!"

"Daisy my dear!" Bilbo called suddenly from the doorway. "Could I have your help with something?"

"Of course, sir!" Daisy responded. She laid the washcloth over the side of the basin and glared daggers at her younger brother. 

"You. Sit!" She commanded. Sam hesitated, then gave in and sat down. "Don't. You. Move. Until I get back." Then with a swish and rustle of her skirts she swept out the door. Bilbo gave Frodo a mysterious wink before following her. Then Frodo and Sam were alone in the room.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence Frodo shifted and began "Sam-"

"No, sir" Sam uncharacteristically interrupted. "It was wrong what I did and I knows it. I shoulda never lost my temper like I did."

Frodo sighed internally. Sam was very humble but he was also very stubborn. At the moment, though, Frodo was just relieved to see that he was alright, for the most part. 

"Sam, goodness knows it was not your fault. I know of Ted Sandyman all too well. My cousin Merry has had worse confrontations with him, though I daresay Merry's temper is far shorter than yours," Frodo mused. 

Sam did not answer. Shameful tears were stinging his eyes and he felt something warm streak down his cheek. Absently he put his hand to his cheek to wipe the tears away. It came back red. The scratch from his face had reopened. 

Frodo noticed this, and he also notice that apparently the burly gardener was a little squeamish. The poor lad looked pale and nauseated. 

Frowning Frodo strode over to the wash basin. Sam looked up blearily as his master dunked the wash cloth into the basin, then wrung it out. Turning to his young companion Frodo said, "Here now, it looks as if you are bleeding again." Then he knelt and gently wiped the offending streak and tears away. Sam flinched slightly at the feel of the cool water, halted his tears, and averted his eyes.

"Its probably going to swell," mused Frodo. Sam shrugged. Frodo could have sworn that the little hint of a smile was back.

"Nothin' time won't heal, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied. 

"I suppose you're right." Frodo shifted and carefully bathed his companion's black eye. "As Gandalf says 'Time heals all wounds.""

"Will Gandalf be coming to Mr. Bilbo's birthday party sir?" Sam asked tentatively, plucking at his dirty shirt.

Frodo smiled, relieved that the subject had been shifted to something more pleasant. "You would have to ask Bilbo about that." He smirked. "But I would not be surprised if we had an amazing display of fireworks before of after Bilbo's inevitable speech."

Sam sighed. "I should like to see that."

"What, Bilbo's speech or the fireworks?" Frodo laughed.

"The fireworks! Not but I'm sure that Mr. Bilbo's speech will be facinatin'." 

"You're coming aren't you?" Frodo asked. The side of his hand grazed Samwise's cheek, in an accidental caress. Sam glanced at Frodo but then quickly looked away. 

"You mean I could, sir?"

Frodo laughed and rewet the cloth. "Of course you can. It is my party too. I intend to make sure that your entire family is invited if they wish to come. We are friend's aren't we?"

As Frodo rung out the cloth, a slow smile broke onto Sam's face, as if the idea of Frodo being his friend had just occurred to him. "'Course we are Mr. Frodo." Then a sudden wave of dizziness seized him and he swayed slightly. Frodo noticed and quickly caught his friend by the shoulders.

"Steady there, lad." His face contorted into anger. "It looks as if that blow did more than just blacken your eye."

"No Mr. Frodo, I'm alright. Just a little woozy. Mr. Bilbo gave me a bit o' ale to take the edge off the pain."

Frodo's face relaxed into a grin. "Did he now? Well that cut of yours is still bleeding a bit at any rate." 

Again he wiped away the blood, but this time Samwise did not avert his eyes. Frodo's blue crystalline eyes met Sam's warm chestnut ones. Frodo froze, his hand still in midair. All was quiet for a moment; so quiet that it seemed to the two that they could hear their hearts beating almost in slow unison. To Sam it was as if he could see the depths of the universe in those eyes. There was something about them that enchanted him, that drew him in and made him want to learn more. 

And Frodo.....Frodo felt something then, something he had never felt before except in smaller doses. For a second it swelled within him, brighter than a thousand suns and hotter than any dragon's fire....

Then Pippin's voice was calling his name. Frodo reactively looked towards the door, breaking the eye contact. The fire died back down to a low glow. 

Pippin called his name again. "Hoy, Frodo! Miss Daisy's making us a tart! Come have some of the extra batter before Merry eats it all!"

Frodo sighed and looked back at Sam, who was blushing and fiddling with the bandage on his hand. The spell had been broken....but not forgotten. 

"Shall we go join them?" Frodo asked tentatively. "We should get Daisy to put a bandage on that cut before it breaks open again."

Sam put his hand to a cheek and felt the raised mark. "Oh....yes, I suppose that'd do. " As Sam followed his master out to the kitchen, he couldn't help but feel a bit muddled. For a moment, looking into Frodo's star-filled eyes, everything had seemed so pure and clear. He'd almost forgotten the horrible things that Ted Sandyman had said...

Sam sighed out loud as they entered the kitchen where Daisy was putting something in the wood-burning oven and Merry and Pippin were busy fighting over a bowl. Sam saw Frodo chuckle at the sight. It had seemed so clear, but the moment had passed, leaving only confusion. Sam supposed life wasn't as simple as it had felt....

_Don't get me wrong, I love you_

But does that mean I have to meet your father?

When we are older you'll understand 

What I meant when I said no, 

I don't think life is quite that simple....

**TBC**

*************************************************************

A/N: End chapter two! If things seem a bit unclear here don't worry, it was done on purpose. Everything will come together in future chapters. Any thoughts on Marigold? Should I have her in here again? Suggestions always welcome!

Next chapter: The party!! Its Bilbo's infamous 111th birthday and Frodo's coming of age. Rosie misunderstands something, Ted Sandyman has decided to give a rather nasty surprise to a certain hobbit, Merry and Pippin have eaten the birthday cake! (Okay, not really....but maybe....) Then, when Bilbo leaves Frodo is all alone....and he begins to take a closer look at his "boring little life." 


	3. Faith

Simple and Clean

A/N: I have returned!! I apologize that this chapter has taken so long. You see, first I was not satisfied with it. Then when I finally was (Saturday) I had two auditions (which went horribly) and then I went to finally see Chicago. Then, on my way home from the movie I felt incredibly worn down and tired and my throat began to hurt. By Sunday it was much worse, my glands were swollen and so were my cheeks and I could scarcely talk. I couldn't do anything but sleep that day. Monday I went to the doctor and had a throat culture performed. Surprise! Strep throat. The doctor forbade me from going to school until Wednesday and gave me some medicine that has helped me to feel better. Since I had nothing to do for the rest of the day I rented a ton of movies and had a LOTR cast field day. After seven hours of watching _The Good Son, Deep Impact, Oliver Twist, Rudy, Black Hawk Down, X-men, _and _the Matrix_ I popped in my E.E. of the Fellowship of the Ring and watched it straight through, something I haven't done in months. Of course, by the end I had to reread the books, even though it was 11 o clock at night. I got to "The Voice of Saruman" in the Two Towers before falling asleep. This morning I woke up determined to get this chapter posted today. Why? Because today (March 25th) is the anniversary of the destruction of the Ring of Doom, or as I shall dotingly name it from here forth Middle Earth Day. Yeah!!! Happy Middle Earth Day!!......You see what happens when one is sick? Odd things happen....

Review responses:

Seregon-I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Yes, Sam is strong isn't he? I think the movies display this very well. Ex.: Hauling Pippin up by the collar in the cornfield, vaulting over the fence with that cumbersome pack on his back while running the Bucklebury Ferry, tearing Gollum away from Frodo, etc. Attribute this to years of physical labor, plus his size.....he's a strong lil' thing, ain't he? ^_^

Nauganor-Thank you! I'm very flattered! I agree with you: give me romance over erotica any day. Let me take this opportunity to say that this fic will not have any sex in it. If that is your fancy then by all means, feel free to write your own. Just not my cup of tea. Besides, I like to think that Frodo and Sam's relationship is built on very strong foundations of love, not just physical lust. 

Emiko-Oi! Gah, thank you, thank you millions of times for bringing that to my attention. I try to get everything right, but many times I do not. Thank you so very much. I plan to rectify that....I do love the song though! I only hope I'm getting the lyrics correct.

Violet Raven-My consistent reviewer!! All praise to you! I hope this chapter is enjoyable. No Merry and Pip in this one, alas. Next chapter thought.....

ZoSo Gamgee-Baggins- Welcome!! Gracious, you people flatter me. I must admit I laughed for quite a while regarding the comment about the party dress. For the love of Sean Astin indeed!^_^

Simple and Clean

Chapter Three

Faith

"The road goes ever on and on, 

Down from the door where it began...." A deep melodic voice rolled out from underneath the wide rimmed grey pointed hat. The voice continued to hum as the cart rolled down the road, over the Bywater Bridge, and towards Bag End. The sun was shining, the birds were chortling, a fresh breeze was blowing. Nearly every hobbit in the Shire was outside on this beautiful September morning, and most of them were preparing for the huge party they'd been awaiting for months: Bilbo Baggins' 111th birthday (and Frodo Baggins' coming of age.) Banners had to be put up, streamers had to be hung, lanterns had to be lit, food had to be prepared by the ton. So many hobbits had turned up that morning that the decorating was almost like a party in itself. 

As the singing driver in the grey hat steered his cart past the bustling party field a good many of the younger hobbits dropped what they were doing in utter delight.

"Hoy, Gandalf!! Gandalf is here!!" Fatty Bolger cried, waving at the wizard frantically.

Gandalf the Grey looked out from beneath his hat and smiled with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"Hello, Fredgar!" he called.

"Gandalf! Gandalf!" cried a pretty young maid, her curls bouncing as she hopped up and down with excitement.

"Good morning, Angelica!" Gandalf waved.

"Gandalf, Gandalf! G for grand!" shouted a group of very young lads and lasses as they hurried after the cart as fast as they could, eager to get a glimpse of the fireworks and other surprises they knew were hidden in the back of the wooden wagon. Gandalf chuckled to himself and looked down the road towards the approaching hill. It had been a while since the last time he had formally visited. He wondered how old Bilbo was faring. *No doubt as lively as ever.* Gandalf thought with a chuckle as the infamous hobbit hole came into view. *Hmmm.....the gardens look lovely.*

With an aged creak the cart pulled to a halt. Slowly, Gandalf slid onto the ground and with a heavy sigh, picked up his wooden staff up from the cart floor where it had lain at his feet. He chuckled at the sign posted on the front gate as he went through.

"No visitors except on party business indeed," the wizened wizard hummed to himself. "Old boy hasn't changed a bit."

A sudden bit of humming drifted to Gandalf's ears. He caught only snatches of the words, but he recognized the voice. His suspicions were justified as a stout, sun-browned hobbit came out from the back gardens carrying a watering can and a basket of freshly picked vegetables.

"Hello Samwise!" Gandalf boomed, startling the poor boy almost out of his mind and causing him to drop the watering can and spill water all over the walkway.

"Mr. Gandalf, sir! I hadn't a-seen you there!" Sam stuttered as he picked up the fallen can.

Gandalf bellowed with laughter. "Samwise Gamgee! My, but you have grown! Still tending the gardens, my lad?"

Sam straightened up and adjusted his basket. "Yessir, a few years now, its been. I'll be! You _have_ come, just like Mr. Frodo said you would!" Sam exclaimed with an amused laugh.

"Oh?" Gandalf hummed, raising a bushy eyebrow and looking down his beaked nose at the gardener. "So Frodo spoiled the surprise, did he?"

Sam blanched and nearly dropped the watering can again, trying to cover his own mouth. "Oh no, Mr. Gandalf, no! He didn't say nothin'! I was just assumin'...."

Gandalf laughed once again and when he did it seemed that all growing things leaned towards the sound like they would sunlight, so loud and merry it was. Sam felt himself smiling despite his previous embarrassment. 

"Of course, my lad, of course. You heard nothing, I am sure. Just another one of your astute observations, no doubt," Gandalf said with a wink. "You are keeping out of trouble, aren't you?"

"Oh...." Sam's hand went guiltily to his formally blackened eye. It had healed nicely, as had the other injuries. "Yessir....for the most part." Sam bit his lower lip, remembering. The gaffer had not been pleased with his young son. 'Keep this up and you'll come to a bad end,' he often said afterwards. However, after speaking to Bilbo one day he mysteriously ceased mentioning the incident itself.

At the present, Gandalf nodded approvingly. "Good lad. I daresay that Frodo could use some positive influence, rather than that Tomfool of a Took and that impish Brandybuck he's always about with. Those two are far more trouble that any fierce creature dear Bilbo may have told you about in his stories. Would you believe that on my way here I caught the two of them trying to steal some jam from Mrs. Chubb's windowsill?"

"Did they, sir?"

"They did indeed. I should not be surprised if the two of them showed up at the party this evening with rather red ears." The wizard sighed and shook his head good naturedly. Then, smiling once again, he said to Samwise "Come now, Sam Gamgee. Shouldn't you be refilling that watering can of yours?"

Sam started as if he'd just remembered. "That's right, sir, I should. A ninny I am, spillin' it all over like that! S'been fine seein' you again Mr. Gandalf!" Sam waved the best he could as he hurried back towards the garden, stumbling a little as he went. 

Gandalf chuckled and turned back to the door. He'd business to attend to, and a reunion with a very old friend.

__

That afternoon....

"Hi, Mari, you've been in there for an hour! Mari! Marigold Gamgee open this door right now!" Daisy Gamgee pounded on the bedroom door in a rather unladylike manner. She had been waiting impatiently to change into her party clothes for some time. Marigold had locked herself in the room and was primping, preening, and fussing over her appearance like a peacock. The party began in little over an hour and a quarter and the Gamgee girls were in a positive uproar. Cries of "That's my ribbon!" and "Does this yellow go with this blue?" and "Have you seen the sewing needles? Where are the sewing needles!?" could be heard throughout Bagshot Row number three. Poor old gaffer Gamgee and his two elder sons could only watch helplessly and stay out of the girls' way.

"They're all mad!" Halfred exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air and settling onto a chair in the tiny kitchen. "Mad, I says!"

"And over-excited," agreed Hamson from across the table as he worked on braiding a rope. "What're they expectin' anyhow? For Frodo to make a proposal to one of them?"

"And where's Sam?" Halfred inquired. "He's been goin' on about this for weeks an' weeks. I'd expect he'd be here primpin' along with May and the others," Hal added with a smirk.

The gaffer puffed on his pipe and listened to Daisy's pounding for a moment before responding. "I expect he's still workin' at Bag End. I'd bet he'll be home any minute."

The time went on until it was nearly sundown. Marigold eventually came out and was promptly made to go back in by the Gaffer, who nearly had a heart attack seeing his youngest daughter decked out in the way she was. Once she was dressed more to the gaffer's approval, Marigold, May, and Daisy grew impatient waiting for their brother and left in a rush of enthusiasm. The gaffer began to grow worried. He hoped that his accident prone son had not gotten into another fight. However, it turned out that he had nothing to fear, because just a s the sun had set Sam burst through the door and ran straight to his room to get changed in a hurry. 

"Oi!" cried Hal. "Sam, where 'ee been?"

"Mr. Bilbo's rose bushes," came the detached reply as Sam struggled to get into his good clothes. "They were too close together and them roots woulda got tangled if they grew anymore. So I had to move 'em."

"Rose bushes," Hamson mused quietly.

"You're gonna be late, Sam," stated the gaffer as he put down his pipe. Sam burst back out from his room, buttoning up his shirt. His jacket was flung over one arm.

"No, I don't think I'll be, da. Not if I run straight from here." He finished buttoning up his shirt, halted, and began putting on his deep navy blue jacket. "Say...." he began, taking in his brothers and father sitting placidly at the rickety kitchen table. "Why aren't you all dressed. Ain't you comin'?"

Hamson shook his head disdainfully. "We've things to prepare for the winter months.." He muttered. 

The gaffer rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. Hal snorted. 

"Us? You must be mad, Sam. What're we gonna do at a big thing like this? To be straight, I'm surprised you're goin'."

"Why?" Sam asked hesitantly, slipping his other arm into the jacket sleeve.

"Just don't make no sense," Hal replied with a shrug. "I can see why the lasses want to go, Sam, but I don't see why'd you want to."

"Simple as this," Sam replied, doing up the clasps. "Mr. Frodo is my friend and I plan to go wish him luck when he comes of age."

"Friend?" Halfred stood up and took Sam by the shouldes. "Sam, do you know what folk are sayin' about that Frodo Baggins?" Hal whispered. "Cracked, they say, and worse...."

Sam grew irritated and shoved his brother's hand aside. "I don't believe a word of it. Not one!" He exclaimed stubbornly and headed for the door. 

"Mind ye don't get into trouble, Samwise!" the gaffer called at the lad's retreating back. Sam paused, nodded, then left his house for the party.

*******************************************************

Bang! The butterflies exploded into a shower of sparkling blue flame. The little hobbit lads and lasses shrieked with delight and jumped up and down, pulling on Gandalf's robes and crying "More! More!" The old wizard chuckled and set off a few more rockets, these taking the shape of flowers and stars.

Not too far away sat Sam Gamgee, puffing absently on his pipe as he watched the party scene unfold before him. Gandalf's firecrackers were more spectacular than before. Merry was munching on an apple and following around the enormous birthday cake (which was topped with exactly eleventy-one candles) with a train of giggling girls on his heels. Pippin was currently no where in sight. Somewhere in the huge crowd Sam knew his sisters were dancing. All around him hobbits ran, laughed, and danced in a swirl of music and color. Not far from the table Sam was sitting at was Frodo, dancing along with all the rest and looking incredibly jovial. Why, he even had a small fanclub of hobbit lasses dancing around with him. Marigold was one of them, Sam noticed with a smile. Like the others, they were drawn to Frodo's polite mannerisms and elvish good looks. 

Frodo laughed suddenly, and it sounded like music, like raindrops on bells, like wind on harp strings. Sam's smile grew. He loved it when Frodo laughed; loved it when he was happy. If Frodo was happy so was Sam. 

The shy gardener put his pipe down and sat thoughtfully for a while. A cool breeze blew across the field and caressed Sam's face gently. It felt pleasant and brought with it the memory of a summer day, when painful wounds had been tended by a gentle touch, and irrational fears had been stilled by kind words....

Sam felt his face flush for reasons he did not understand. He straightened up on the stool. *That was funny..* He thought. *For a moment it felt like I-*

There was no time to finish his thought because right then Frodo vaulted over the table and sat next to him, his face red as well, albeit from all the dancing. 

"Are you having a good time, Sam?" Frodo asked with a big smile. He clapped his friend on the back.

Sam smiled back. "Yes, Mr. Frodo. You were right! Mr. Gandalf's display is amazin'! I'd of never seen so many colors."

"I'll drink to that!" Frodo exclaimed, taking up a nearby tankard of ale and inhaling a bit of it. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I believe everyone else is, as well....although I am sure there are more hobbits here than were invited..." Frodo got a sudden glint in his eye. He slowly stood up and scanned the dancing crowd. After a moment or tow he found who he was looking for, spinning around with her arms in the air, her gold curls flying about her shapely face. Turning back to Sam, Frodo clapped him on the shoulder and said: "Go on, Sam. Ask Rosie for a dance."

Sam looked over his broad shoulder at Rosie, the prettiest maid in the Shire in her new blue dress. Sam felt panic rise in his throat. Sure, Rosie was very pretty and sweet, but Sam could not dance nor did he have any idea what to say to a maid who wasn't his sister. And besides all that he felt quite content to sit next to Frodo and not make a fool of himself. Quickly he looked for a diversion. 

"Nah.....I think I'll just have another ale," the young Gamgee said with a shrug of his shoulders as he reached for one of the tankards on the table; not even sure if it was his, just hoping to divert Frodo's attention. However, young master Baggins would have none of it.

"Oh, no you don't!" Frodo cried, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Sam's shoulders and when Sam jumped in surprise he spun him in the direction of the dancers and pushed him towards them, burying his face in the gardener's back as he did so. Disoriented, Sam stumbled into the crowd. Rosie caught him up in a dance and then he was lost in the swirl, leaving a very amused Frodo behind him.

A lively dance had started up and the dancers twirled, skipped, and clapped in time to the melody. Rose Cotton had clasped her fingers through Sam's and Sam could do little except allow himself to flow with her movements. She certainly seemed happy anyways; Rosie was smiling and laughing like most everyone else. Sam supposed he should feel happy as well but he simply did not feel comfortable.

*Dimwit!* he thought as he and Rosie spun through a line of clapping hobbits. *Here you are with the prettiest lass in Hobbition and all you can think about is how to get away from her!* But no matter how much Sam berated himself he knew it was true. Even thought Rosie was a very kind girl Sam still found himself scanning the crowd, searching for Frodo. It was then that Samwise noticed that the music was getting more and more distant, and he and Rosie were getting farther and farther away from the main party crowd. Sam opened his mouth to inform his dance partner of this, but she beat him to speaking first. 

"Sam," she said stopping her dance, her green eyes shining. "Lets go for a walk. I want to talk to you about something."

Sam's stomach flipped. he wanted to shake his head and run away, just get far away from Rose and hid under a table or something childish like that. He was merely too shy! He didn't know how to talk to a female and, truth be told, he had never truly wanted to. Rosie still had her small hand in his, and he knew he should feel elated, but he didn't. It just did not feel right. It didn't fill him with starlight like........like.......

Sam was rather startled to find that he and Rosie had begun to walk. He did not know how or when but apparently somewhere within his panic attack he had nodded his consent to Rosie's suggestion. There was no turning back now.

"I heard of what happened between you and that Ted Sandyman," said Rosie with a laugh as she released Sam's hand (much to the latter's relief) to smooth out her dress.

Sam blushed. "I don't see why folk are making such a big noise 'bout it. It ain't nothin' no one else couldn't of done."

"Say what you want, Sam Gamgee, but the fact is that as much as people might've wanted to get that Sandyman you were the one that did it. And the townsfolk think that's a feat."

Sam shrugged his burly shoulders and mumbled something inaudible. They continued on in silence for a while, walking noiselessly over the fallen leaves. Then Rosie said softly and seriously "Sam? Why don't you ever come around? Marigold's always coming to and fro, but we hardly see anything of you."

"I-I'm sorry, Rose," Sam stammered. "I just been busy, with the gardens and such."

"But don't you get terribly lonely?" Rosie came to a halt and looked at Sam sideways. Sam stopped as well and shuffled his feet, unable to look the girl in the face.

"Well, no, to tell the truth. I like workin' at Bag End. Mr. Bilbo's there, and Mr. Frodo too. And sometimes Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin stay there......its mighty hard to be lonely when there's so many folk around."

"But don't you ever wish there was someone you could talk to?" Rosie asked hopefully. However, Sam did not pick up on the hint.

"But I talk, Rosie, to Mr. Frodo. He's always there to listen, even if I've just a silly question to ask."

Irritation and hurt clouded Rosie's emerald orbs. She was misunderstanding Sam's answers; she believed he was deliberately trying to put her off.

"But don't you ever want to do more than work for an aging hobbit and his heir for the rest of your life?!" She cried. Sam was completely taken aback. He could do nothing but stare at the lass with his mouth agape.

Rosie could take no more. "Oooooooh, Sam Gamgee, you don't understand!" With that the girl turned and fled back towards the tents, tears springing to her eyes.

Sam was dumbstruck. He stared a moment longer then mentally shook himself. 

"Rosie, wait!' he cried. "I-" The cry was cut short as someone hit him from behind, knocking him to the ground. With all the racket from the party and the confusion from Rosie, Sam had not heard the person approaching from the shadows behind him.

"It ain't polite to shout at a lady," a familiar voice seared. Sam's eyes narrowed and he growled "Sandyman...." He struggled to get up but only managed to turn over onto his back when three pairs of hands shoved him back down. Ted Sandyman stood back from his lackeys, glaring down at the younger hobbit. He was grinning, exposing three black gaps in his teeth. 

"Thought I'd forget, did 'ee Sammy boy?" Ted hissed. "Naw, how could I forget when ye gave me a nice reminderin' every time I look in the mirror!"

Sam struggled to get up but the other hobbits held him fast. "Was you that started it, Sandyman! I told you to be off-"

"I would have had you arrested," Ted snapped, ignoring Sam and walking around to Sam's side. "If it weren't for that old crack-pot Baggins. Must have paid off the shirriff..." Ted stopped and crouched down close to Sam's ear. "But you ain't gonna go cryin' to Mad Baggins again, are ye, you filthy Gamgee?"

Anger and hatred flashed in Ted's eyes. Sam's self confidence wavered but he refused to let it show. 

"Stop your prattlin', Ted. If you're still sore about that hit then let me up and fight me fair." Sam proclaimed, glaring up at his offender and struggling again against the restraining hands.

Ted laughed and his croonies followed his lead. "Sure, it'll be a fair fight. Leastways that's what everyone's gonna think. Little Baggins' whore wanted another go around, didn't he lads? 'Cept this time it'll be you what's black and blue and embarrassed." Ted nudged one of the younger ruffians beside him and the laughter grew louder. Sam's eyes grew wide with fury at the sound of THAT NAME. All the rumors he'd heard about his master flooded his mind.

*_That Frodo Baggins is queer, alright. Ain't right in the head. Not that it ain't understandable, losing his parents at such a young age, the poor thing. Must have been so traumatic; its no wonder....* I heard he's been trying to seduce some of the younger lads. Don't you find it odd that he's almost of age and he spends all his time with those young cousins of his?* *Half Brandybuck, he is. That blood line's all odd. Knowing to swim and boat, and the like. Ain't natural...* _

It was all a lot of nonsense and any sensible hobbit would dismiss the accusations immediately. Still, things were said and often that was enough.

"I won't have you sayin' things of that sort!" Sam yelled. One of the lads holding him down slapped a dirty hand over Sam's mouth to stifle his cries.

"Shut up," the lad wheezed. "Wouldn't want to disturb Old Bilbo's party, now would you?"

Ted sniggered. "Naw, we wouldn't want that," he said in an eerily calm and quiet tone. Sam looked about in a panic. The tents seemed so far away and everyone was too busy with the party festivities to notice the scene. Silently Sam cursed his inherited bad luck. 

Then suddenly with a loud bang and a flash of sparkling fire a spectacular shape flew into the sky. Ted and his lads jumped at the sudden noise and looked up in time to see a great red dragon emerge from the cloud of red sparks. The creature unfurled its wings and swept down.

"Dragon!!" One of the boys shouted, pointing at the beast. Sam saw his chance and took it. Taking advantage of the gang's inattentiveness he twisted suddenly to the right, tearing free from the grips on his mouth and shoulders. As quick as he could manage he struggled to his feet, pushed through the gang of hobbits and ran off as fast as he could towards the tents. Behind him he heard Ted's angry curses but they were cut short as the dragon flew over the Bywater and burst into a dazzling fountain of gold. Sam kept running.

Back at the bottom of the hill, Ted's gang was recovering from the shock of Gandalf's prized "Smaug's Revenge." 

"He got away!" cried the lad who had stifled Sam's cries. 

"Should we go after him?" asked another, his voice still wavery from fear of the dragon. Ted thought a moment, crossing his arms in ponderance.

"Nah, I'll wait for him. Something's bound to come my way one of these days and when it does it'll get Sam Gamgee somewhere he can't heal...."

*******************************************************

Sam kept running until he rounded the farthest of the party tents......and ran smack into a rather tall figure. Sam fell backwards onto his backside with a startled cry but the person he had bumped into merely chuckled and leaned on his staff, grey robes swishing in the dust. Sam felt his face go red and looked up bashfully at the aged face of the Grey Pilgrim.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gandalf, sir. I wasn't watchin' where I was goin'. " Sam mumbled as he picked himself up off the ground.

"That much is apparent," Gandalf said with a laugh. "Think nothing of it. I was in a hurry myself. In fact, I am still in quite a hurry." Fro the briefest of moments something like worry clouded the wizard's eyes, but as quickly as it had come it was gone. "Where had you been, my boy? You missed Bilbo's birthday speech. And his rather.......surprising conclusion. I wonder what the old rascal is up to now...."

Sam cringed. It seemed he'd missed a good deal of the party. *I hope Mr. Bilbo doesn't think me rude for disappearin'.* Sam thought. Luckily there was no need to answer the wizard's question because seemingly Gandalf had other things on his mind.

"Well I've things to see to, important things. Stay out of trouble Samwise." Gandalf winked then turned on his staff and virtually disappeared into the night, heading in the direction of Bag End.

Sam was left feeling embarrassed and very stupid. In one night he had succeeded in alienating Rosie, getting into another skirmish with Ted, and ran into a wizard who could have, if he'd been more foul tempered, turned the little gardener into a toadstool. On top of that he had missed wishing Bilbo and Frodo a happy birthday.

Sam gasped in sudden realization. Frodo! He had just left him without saying a word!

"Stupid, half wise ninny!" Sam berated himself out loud. "Now what will he think....me goin' off like that...."

Still muttering to himself Sam drifted over to the party crowd. No one was dancing now; everyone was too busy talking about how Mad Baggins had done it again. Sam picked his way through the crowd. He could not find Frodo anywhere. After much searching Sam decided that Frodo had probably tired of the event and gone home to spend the night quietly with Bilbo. Sighing Sam decided to go home as well. He felt thoroughly miserable.

As Sam trudged away from the party, he shoved his hands in his pockets and hummed a tune to cheer himself up a bit. A cold breeze had picked up, making the young Gamgee's teeth chatter and ruining the effect of the song. The moonlight cast black shadows on the empty road. Sam felt uneasy for a reason he could not quite put his finger on. Lost in his thoughts, Sam walked right past his home and continued on up the hill towards Bag End. Suddenly he felt a sharp bite on his foot. He halted with a pained cry and glared down at the ground to see a tiny, dark, eight-legged insect scurry away into the grass. Sam sighed. It was just a spider.

Leaning down to rub the side of his throbbing foot, Sam noticed that he was very near to the round, green door of his employer's home. Sam thought for a moment, then deciding he owed it to Frodo and Bilbo to explain himself he went up to Bag End. A minute later he reached the smial and raised his hand to knock on the door, only to find that it was slightly ajar. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion Sam pushed open the door.

"Mr. Frodo? Sir? Mr. Bilbo? S'me, Samwise...."Sam called timidly as he entered the main hall. 

"In here, Sam," came Frodo's soft response. Sam followed the sound of the voice to the parlor. There Frodo stood in front of a smoldering fire, gazing at a sealed envelope that was clutched in his hand.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam ventured haltingly. Frodo turned to gaze at his friend with shining eyes and a sad smile.

"He has gone, Sam. He talked for so long of leaving....but he's finally done it." Frodo's voice hitched in his throat and he turned back to the fire. With a sinking heart Sam realized what had happened. Bilbo had left the Shire, for good this time. The aging hobbit's wander lust had finally become too much to suppress. Sam felt a tearful lump rise to his throat. He'd loved the old hobbit like a second father and was sad to hear that he had gone.

A soft noise caused Sam's ears to perk up and he returned his gaze to Frodo. The tears that Frodo had been suppressing had over flown his eyes and now cut two thin streams down his pale cheeks. Sam's heart broke at the sight. He forgot his own troubles; forgot Ted Sandyman; forgot Rosie; forgot the townsfolk; forgot everything, shoved it somewhere deep inside himself and put forth everything else he had to help Frodo.

Frodo jumped as a comforting hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder, knowing full well who it was. 

"He'll be alright, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. It was such a simple, obvious statement and yet it was said with such surety and sincerity that Frodo could not deny it was the truth. Though it did not make Frodo make miss Bilbo any less, it was a comfort to know that the old hobbit was going somewhere he had long desired to go and would be well taken care of. After all, Gandalf had said the Bilbo was going to live with the elves....

Turning from the fire to face his young friend Frodo said, "I know, Sam. He was never really settled here, was he?" He sighed. "No, something got into him long ago, something bigger than the Shire. He said he wanted to see mountains again, and the elves." He sat down heavily onto a nearby chair and set the envelope aside on the table. Sam sat down across from him.

"Its funny, Mr. Frodo," Sam began. "You spend your whole life learnin' about things. Folk tell you tales about the outside world but you never really think of them things as bein' real. Its like you know it is, you see the proof, but you can't picture it the way it was, the way it really happened, no matter how much its described."

Frodo raised his eyes slightly to watch his companion. Sam was busy looking at the walls covered in maps and the shelves full of books.

"And I think maybe that's why Mr. Bilbo had to go. Because he saw them things we only know as stories. Then he came back home and started to forget. Maybe them pictures in his mind began to fade, to become fairy stories to him like they were to everyone else. Maybe that's why Mr. Bilbo had to go. So he wouldn't forget." Sam paused to clear his throat and turned his gaze to Frodo. "Leastways....that's how I see it."

Frodo remained quiet for a moment then smiled ever so slightly. "You know Sam, you are wiser than you think you are. Where does myth end and history begin, I wonder? Perhaps myth is myth because people moved on and forgot, like you said, and history is history because someone wrote it down. One can't truly say for sure, can they? I suppose that eventually even the written word falls to nothing more than written legend..." 

Sam sat in awe. "You sound almost like Mr. Gandalf, Mr. Frodo!" He exclaimed. 

Frodo laughed a little and Sam's heart was gladder for it. "The day I begin to sound like Gandalf is the day you start lying and cheating, Sam Gamgee."

Sam blushed and bit his lower lip. He wondered where the old wizard had gone, but before he could voice his thoughts Frodo answered them.

"Gandalf has left as well. He said he had 'questions that needed answering.' Close as usual, old Gandalf." Frodo sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "It seems that everyone is leaving for grander things these days. There is a big world out there, Sam. I wonder if I shall every see more of it than the Four Farthings."

Sam took his master's hand between his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You may sir. Who knows yet. And.....you know I'd never leave you, right Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo looked at his friend gratefully and smiled with tired eyes. "Of course I do, Sam. I know you'd come with me into Smaug's Lair if I'd ask you to." With his free hand he absently brushed some of Sam's dusty curls out of his eyes. He let his fingers trace the side of his friend's face before finally resting his hand along Sam's cheek. The crickets chirped and the two hobbits remained still, Sam still clasping Frodo's hand, the both of them just taking in the other's presence, seeking comfort in each other's eyes. 

At length it was Sam who stirred. "Must be late, sir." He said quietly. "My...my gaffer will be wonderin' where I am. Will you be alright here alone, Mr. Frodo?" he asked.

Frodo hesitated. To be honest he did not want to be alone in the huge smial without friend or family for the first time. Yet he surprised himself by saying "Yes, Sam. I'll be alright."

Sam gave him a reassuring smile, squeezed his hand a final time, and stood to go. Frodo felt a panic rise to his throat, threatening to choke him. He realized that if Sam left he would be stuck with a lonely gap in his heart for the rest of the night. 

"Don't go...." he squeaked , hardly audibly, even to his own ears. Sam stopped immediately and turned to regard his employer.

"Mr. Frodo?" he ventured, concerned. Frodo immediately berated himself. How selfish he was being! How could he ask his friend to sit up with him all night? Surely he could survive for one evening....

Forcing a smile Frodo whispered, "Good night, Sam."

Sam studied Frodo for a moment longer then said in a soft, low voice "Good night, Mr. Frodo. I'll be here early tomorrow morning. Happy birthday." He waited a moment longer then on leaden legs walked out of Bag End, shutting the door behind him. Frodo let out a long shuddering breath.

"Sam..." he sighed, glancing at the envelope on the table. "How I wish I could tell you everything that's happened tonight...." He continued to stare at the envelope, remembering Gandalf's words. *Ah......Bilbo's ring.* *He's left everything to you, including the ring.* *I have questions......questions that need answering.* *Keep it secret.....keep it safe....* *Secret......Safe........*

With a sudden uncomfortable urge Frodo seized the envelope and its precious contents. He did not want to look at it, harmless though it seemed. Quickly he stalked over to the wooden chest against the wall, opened the lid, thrust the envelope deep inside and slammed the lid shut.

"There......it is secret," He whispered to himself. "It is safe....." Then the loneliness returned and he crept into bed, breathing in the scent of the rose bush Sam had replanted under his window and crying silent tears.

__

When you walk away

You don't hear me say

Please, oh baby, don' t go

Simple and clean is the way that you're making me fell tonight

Its hard to let it go....

****

TBC

*******************************************************

Hmm.....this seemed a bit more movie based than book based. ::Shrug:: 

Next chapter: Frodo and Sam both begin to contemplate certain feelings, but Gandalf's sudden reappearance interrupts everything. Last chapter before the Quest begins!!!

I'd just like to add something about what Ted Sandyman said. If you've read the Return of the King: The Scouring of the Shire, you'll understand what this is foreshadowing. If you haven't don't worry!! I shall cover it in later chapters. 


	4. Pure

Simple and Clean

A/N: Sincere apologies for the delays. I had such a problem with this chapter. (Bad chapter! Bad!!) I knew exactly how I wanted this chapter to play out, but it took me six times before I finally got it the way I wanted it. Plus, some of the "inner thoughts" sections took me more than ten times to rework. I truly hope that you all enjoy this chapter. It was hard!!^_^ As it is, I am STILL not completely satisfied with it, particularly the ending, but I can always rework it if I ever have a break in time. On another note, I've begun a synopsis for a new story. It should be up within the next week or so, and I like to think that I'm being rather clever about the plot of it (but perhaps that is merely the root beer speaking....)

Review responses:

Violet Raven: This chapter I dedicate to you!! ::Hands Violet Raven the " Chapter Four Dedication Award". Endorsed by Dominic Monoghan himself.....oh I wish:: In response to your query, yes this is going to be quite a long story. I finished the synopsis for it yesterday and came up with 35 chapters plus an Epilogue. After that I plan on posting several "Lost Chapters" separately, if you all are interested of course!!

Luthien: Greetings, Tinuviel!! I'm glad that you're enjoying my little ficlet. Also, did you know that in The Fellowship of the Ring (movie), when Arwen first comes onto the camera all glowing like, that the chorus singing is saying Tinuviel! Luthien! in a very drawn out manner? Too much free time.....but I swear it is true!!

ZoSo Gamgee-Baggins: Once again your post made me crack up. Now every time I think of that scene I shall think of Gandalf being dragged through a field in a blue dress. Oh if I could draw!! Also, I read your bio (nosy little me) Wonderful!! Another silly hippie! I applaud ye....

Bakemono: Oh dear, Miss Cotton is not too popular of late, is she? Poor, poor lass. ::shrug:: Me+recently-recieved-RoTK picture= stroke from pure happiness. I suggest to all of you to go to theonering.net and find those pictures, they are gorgeous!! Sam with Frodo in his arms, Aragorn in Gondorian armor, Merry and Pippin standing in flooded Isengard....so...precious. ::apologizes to Bakemono for turning this review response into an advertisement....bows, then gives Bakemono the scepter of apology::

Seregon:Thank yous and thank yous!! Yes, I suppose I do work in movie and book canon. It just played out that way, although I try my hardest to stay true to the book. (Check the weather in this chapter against the weather in the same part of the book.......I'm obsessed I tell you!! I just HAD to get the weather right....grumble....) I do indeed plan on bringing this story to the bitter end. Also, every character I bring into this fic I will try to make come alive, even that dratted Legolas-elf....

Tiriel: I am glad that you've enjoyed it so far!! Welcome, welcome. May you be greeted with a thousand golden Figwits. ^_^ Oh yes, and you have every right to be persnickety. I try very hard to reread my work before I post it to check for typos but I'm a little dyslexic and often don't catch things....grrr...I need a beta reader....

__

This chapter brought to you by lembas, the elvish waybread. One bite is enough to feed a grown man for a full day.

Merry: How many did you eat?

Pippin: Four.....*belch*

Sorry, I'm in a mood today. Cursed April air.....

Simple and Clean

Chapter four

Pure

"Mr. Frodo, breakfast is ready!"

Frodo groaned and buried his head under his pillow. He heard the muffled sound of footsteps and then the shutters being thrown opened. His bedroom intruder sighed then reshut the shutters.

"Come on, Mr. Frodo, wake up! There's a nasty bit of rain today and its a touch cold. Not much, mind you, but enough to give the garden a chill. I'll have to go make sure the plants ain't harmed none." The voice paused thoughtfully. "After I get you out of bed that is."

Despite himself Frodo smiled. Sam's cheerful prattle never ceased to amuse him. However, Frodo's false scowl took over his features once again as the pillow was gently pulled away and the blankets were pulled back. Dramatically, Frodo threw his arms over his head and groaned again. Sam gently shook his master's shoulder.

"Come on now, Mr. Frodo. I've a nice fire goin' in the kitchen. You'd best stop bein' a slug-a-bed before your breakfast chills." Sam shook his head bemusedly. He knew when Frodo was playing, full-grown though they both were. 

Grudgingly Frodo opened his bright blue eyes and turned over onto his back to blink up at his friend. Squinting, he declared, "I shan't move from this bed. If you want me to come to breakfast you shall have to carry me to the table, for although you've woken my head up my feet are still fast asleep."

"Mr. Frodo...." Sam pleaded, putting his hands on his hips. The action and tone made Frodo think of the young Gamgee in the garden years ago, saying it wasn't proper to play in the mud. Sighing loudly, Frodo surrendered his jest and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Very well, I'm up, I'm up. Honestly Sam, I don't know who I ever managed to rouse myself up in the morning. I daresay if you weren't here I'd sleep the day away and be no more the wiser for it." He rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. "It seems that you've always been here. It has been years since this little tradition started, if I remember correctly."

Sam nodded and raised his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "Since the morning after Mr. Bilbo left, I'd reckon." 

Frodo nodded in agreement. "The years fly, don't they?" 

Sam lowered his eyes to study Frodo. Yes, the years had flown, but Frodo looked none the worse from them. Why, he was just past fifty and still looked no older than Sam himself. It was a curious phenomenon, but Bilbo, too, had been 'well preserved.' It was nothing to get excited about. So, Sam merely smiled and said, "Aye, that they do, Mr. Frodo. I'll go warm your breakfast for you."

Humming to himself the gardener left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Frodo looked after him for a moment then forced himself to rise completely and go over to his clothing chest. As he riled through the drawers for the day's clothes he laughed thoughtfully.

"Do you remember when you were a lad, Sam? You said that when you grew up you were going to fatten me up properly." Frodo slipped off his nightshirt and pulled on his breeches. He made a childish face at his reflection in the bureau mirror. Though still uncommonly thin for a hobbit he had indeed acquired a healthy bit of extra weight, a fact he attributed to Sam's good cooking.

"I believe you held true to your word," Frodo called, slipping on his shirt and running his hands through his bed-tousled curls. "As usual," he added as an after thought. 

"Yes sir, I do remember that," Sam's voice drifted from the kitchen followed by the clatter of pans. Frodo yawned and went out into the hallway, listening to the rain outside as he did so.

As he passed through the parlor the old wooden chest caught Frodo's eye, just as it had every morning for the last decade. A fine layer of dust covered the lid. Frodo had only opened it once after thrusting the envelope with Bilbo's magic ring inside deep into the confines of the box; only once on a whim, just to make sure the heirloom was still there. For the rest of the years it had lain silently, nearly forgotten except in some deep place of Frodo's mind, where somehow it constantly prodded; calling out, begging to be taken out and examined. Today, however, the call was too weak to be paid much attention and Frodo continued through the parlor to the kitchen where Sam was just setting out the plates of food freshly heated from the fire.

Frodo inhaled the aromas deeply as he sat down at his place. Everything smelled delicious and when Frodo said so Sam flushed light pink and mumbled his thanks before getting the tea kettle and bringing it over to the table. He poured the hot drink first into Frodo's cup, then his own. 

"What are you plannin' to do today, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked nonchalantly as he sat down and began to eat. Frodo took up a forkful, chewed, and swallowed thoughtfully before answering. 

"You know," he said slowly, "it is just the perfect kind of day to simply laze about in front of the fire with a good book. Perhaps I shall write in my journal. I've been meaning to lately; I never was as diligent in writing down my daily personal thoughts as Bilbo. No doubt he's filled three books already...."

Sam nodded his approval then took a swig of his own beverage. "That sounds fine, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "After all, its better to be in then out in these nasty, cold days. And truth be told, sir, I'd bet your hands been wantin' some exercise. Ink and pen might do you good. Get the blood flowin', you might say."

Frodo cleared his throat. "Why don't you join me, Sam? Surely the garden will not suffer from one day of your absence."

"Perhaps not, sir, but I'd best make sure they ain't drownded," said Sam between bites. "Shouldn't take me long; no more than the mornin'."

Frodo flet a stone of disappointment settle in his stomach, but the immediately he reprimanded himself. Why should he feel disappointed? Sam had work to do and he was only trying to fulfill his duties properly. Pushing the stone away, Frodo sipped at his tea and changed the subject.

"How are things at home, Sam?"

"Well enough, I suppose. Just me and the gaffer now, you know, since Marigold got married. My gaffer's been cranky of late; his joints've been painin' him in this rainy weather. He's been hecklin' me 'bout gettin' married myself, since I came of age."

Frodo paused in his meal long enough to raise his eyes and say, "Why haven't you?"

"Why haven't you , beggin' pardon, Mr. Frodo?" Sam countered, breaking into a smile. Then he shrugged and resumed his eating. "I'm happy the way things are now."

Frodo smiled. "That's all that matters then, isn't it?"

They finished breakfast in comfortable silence then together they cleared the table. That finished Sam was off to the gardens, his feet sticking in the mud and water dripping from his hood as he went. Frodo stood by the window for a while, watching the grey clouds roll by and the grass sway in the wind. A perfectly nasty, dreary day. Frodo smiled to himself. Just as he had told Sam, these days were the best for reading or writing or thinking. *Perhaps I shall practice my elvish,* Frodo thought. 

Reciting various lilting words and phrases the gentle hobbit returned to his room and stood before the knotty, wooden bookshelf laden with handwritten tomes and parchments just begging to be read. Frodo pondered over the selection then decided against reading. His hands itched to write!

Slyly, he crept to his bedroom door and shut it. Then, feeling like a paranoid child, he slunk over to his dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and dug out a cloth bound journal from beneath his clothes. "Ridiculous!" Frodo exclaimed with a laugh out loud to himself as he shut the drawer and opened the book to the front page before beginning. "_To cousin Frodo, so that he may stop day dreaming and write down some of those sill thoughts of his. From Meriadoc the Magnificent." _Frodo chuckled as he read the inscription then turned to a blank page and picked up the quill.

~_Today is a rather dreary day,~ _he began. A loud sneeze sounded outside his window and Frodo knew that Sam was right outside, gardening away despite the cold rain. Frodo shook his head with a sigh and continued his writing.

~_I should have liked to stay warm in my bed until well past elevensies, but, of course, dear Samwise would have none of that. I do believe he would have poured ice water on me if I had not complied to his wishes. And I his elder! When did it happen that student orders teacher? Imagine! (I mean this of course in only the best humor.)_

It is lonely here, alone in this grey room while outside a grey rain falls from a grey sky. It is days such as this that I am grateful for my consistent companion. When all else is despondent and dreary Sam is the one thing that remains sprightly and vivacious. But now here I am getting poetic again.

I often wonder what Bilbo is doing. Perhaps it is raining in Rivendell. Perhaps it is. Raindrops like crystal shards or broken starlight, I would wager. I should like to see it one day. Rivendell, that is. I 've begun to wonder if I shall ever leave the Shire. I wonder if I shall ever see the world outside. Almost, I can picture it in my head. The great halls of the Elves, all wrought in silver leaves and moonlight. Mountains higher than an eye can see, stretching up towards the heavens with snow covered fingers. Vast forests with trees that seem almost animated, with leaves the color of elven gems and trunks the color of Sam's eyes when he is laughing...~

Here Frodo came to an abrupt halt. Outside there was the angry rumble of distant thunder, and the rain began to come down in sheets. Frodo frowned and stood up, leaving his journal open on his desk, and went to his window. Outside, Sam stood in the center of the garden, shovel in hand, blinking up at the sky in bewilderment. 

Frodo could not help but be slightly amused. Apparently the sudden cloud burst had caught the gardener off guard. With a slight smile on his face Frodo opened the window. 

"Sam!" he shouted as rain blew into his face unforgivingly. Sam jumped and squinted at Frodo from beneath his drenched cloak.

"Musta been a cloud burst, Mr. Frodo!" the younger hobbit shouted back.

"Indeed! For heaven's sake, Sam, come inside! You'll catch your death out there!"

As if to further punctuate Frodo's statement Sam's chest hitched and he sneezed loudly. "You see!" Frodo accused. He laughed and shook his head. "Come back inside. The plants will be more than nourished. And do not argue with me!" Frodo added as Sam opened his mouth to protest. Frodo ducked his head back inside and quickly closed the window to block out the onslaught of rainwater. He moved to put his journal away and as he picked the clothbound book up he casually ran his eyes over the page he had just written. He went to the dresser and opened te drawer to rehide his personal thoughts when he came to the last phrase of the entry: ~_like Sam's eyes when he's laughing.~_ When Frodo had written that he had been lost in thought; writing almost subconsciously as he envisioned the Lands Beyond, so why had he....

Struck by a sudden pang of curiosity Frodo quickly flipped through his previous entries. Each one mentioned the stout hearted gardener at least once. In January: ~_......There is hardly a coverlet of snow on the ground today, yet Sam still shivers in the garden. I do wish he would come inside and sit by the fire; it is pitiful to seem him work so hard....~_

In February:~_.......since I am visiting Merry for the week. He has grown up in body but certainly not in spirit. While I enjoy the antics of my young cousin I often find myself longing for Bag End. It grows very lonely at times, without Sam's whistling.....~_

A week later:~_..........if there is any reason to remain here it is Sam's cooking. I've no idea how I sustained my health before.....~_

In March: ~ _The Sun has decided to grace us with her presence. It is oddly warm for this time of the season and it would be a tragic waste to whittle it away indoors. Therefore, I found it necessary to go for a stroll near the woods. Sam accompanied me and as we walked he surprised me with a gasp. Upon my query of his behavior he swore that he had seen an elf. While I'm not entirely positive if it was in fact an elf, it is not impossible. Of late I've seen glowing caravans of the High Folk traveling in quiet files. They are going across the sea.....~_

And so it continued. Frodo pondered this for a while but ultimately found nothing odd about it. "He is my friend," the hobbit said out loud. "One of my dearest...." He dropped the journal into the drawer then shut the drawer and went to meet Sam.

Frodo found him dripping on the main hall's threshold. The gardener was looking down at the puddle of muddy water beneath his feet abashedly. His hood was thrown back and his thick curls were drooped heavy with water. He looked up, distressed, as Frodo entered the hallway.

"I'm afraid I've dripped water all over your floor, Mr. Frodo," Sam said guiltily. "I'll clean it up...."

"No, no," replied Frodo, holding up a hand. "Don't fret about it. It is merely water; it will dry. But look at you, you're nearly drowned!"

Samwise blushed the color of a rosebud and ran his moppish looking hair. He realized that he most likely did look as if he had just hopped into the Brandywine and also realized that his employer found it quite amusing. 

Sam admired Frodo, more than he did anyone else. Frodo was patient, kind hearted, polite, educated, and more than that, he had tried to educate Sam. Throughout all the years Frodo had kept his word to teach the lad. Together they had read nearly all of Bilbo's books and papers. Sam had learned to write, albeit not as delicately or precisely as Frodo could. With Frodo the words seemed to spill out of his finger tips onto the paper like leaves fell from the trees. Sometimes Frodo would let Sam read some of his poetry and Sam had found the soliloquies so beautiful he was moved to tears. Frodo was so much greater and nobler than Sam could ever hope to be, and someone of that much grace had to be treated with the proper respect. Which was why after Frodo had drawn Sam inside, set him by the fire, and put on the tea kettle for second breakfast, the elder returned to find Sam on his hands and knees mopping up the excess water with a rag he'd found. 

"Well!" Frodo exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips. "I leave for two minutes and here you are scrubbing at the floor!"

Sam glanced up and gave Frodo a sheepish grin. "Well sir, its the only safe thing to do. You might of fallen if you'd stepped here, and broken an arm or a leg. And I ain't gonna have you gettin' injured, Mr. Frodo, on account of my foolishness."

"Very well," hummed Frodo as he pushed his sleeves up past his elbows. "If you absolutely insist on keeping me safe then I shall help you."

Sam stood up in a hurry. "Its alright Mr. Frodo. I can manage."

Frodo was indignant. "Sam, I am clearly capable of cleaning my own home." He'd taken no more than two steps forward before Sam's warning proved true. As Frodo settled his weight onto the slick floor his foot turned, throwing him off balance. Startled, Frodo threw all of his weight to the right to help steady himself but only succeeded in making himself slip altogether and plummet towards the ground.

Sam rushed forward in a panic and caught his master securely in his arms before any damage could be done. "Whoa there, Mr. Frodo, steady now!"

Frodo was horrendously embarrassed. He felt heat on his cheeks and knew that he was blushing. Sam still had his arms around him, holding him snugly lest Frodo should fall again. The gardener's clothes were still damp from the rain and as Frodo took in a shuddering breath he noticed that Sam smelled of new earth, wet wool, and tea; a natural, but oddly comforting odor. The seconds ticked by and Frodo knew he should move, but he couldn't bring himself to. Something about the situation seemed comforting and oddly familiar, like picking up a book you've read before and reliving the same story, or returning home after a long days hike. Knowing that Sam was nearby had become something of a security blanket, one that Frodo was glad he had. 

"Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam, his deep, concerned voice resonating in Frodo's ears. 

"Hmm?" Frodo glanced up and half-heartedly tore himself out of the strong arms. "Oh, yes....just a little surprised, that is all."

Sam clucked his tongue. "I told you to be careful, sir, but there you went and scared me near to death. I almost thought you a-done that on purpose!"

At that Frodo laughed and his sheepishness dissipated. "I almost wish I had! Perhaps then I would have been spared the humiliation of tripping over my own feet. Could you imagine if I had been crippled from slipping on the floor? No doubt the Sacksville-Bagginses would have some stories to tell then!" Frodo chuckled to himself at the thought of old Lobelia conspiring to somehow use such an injury to her own advantage but Sam's face remained clouded and worried.

"You shouldn't joke about you gettin' hurt, Mr. Frodo," he said softly. Then the shadow passed as if it had never been and Sam glanced at the window. "Lor save me; the sun's come out!" he exclaimed joyously. Frodo followed the gardener's eyes. Golden sunlight cascaded through the glass and onto the floor. The rain had ended for the day and the light had broken through. Frodo turned his eyes back to Sam who was still smiling about the sun and now chattering about all the work he should do. Gazing at his dear friend, Frodo felt the feeling that had been sparked all those years ago on a summer night now glowed warm again. Frodo felt it throughout his being, thought he could not identify it as of yet, not to himself at any rate. Helpful, faithful Samwise, always there, always cheerful. The corners of Frodo's lips twitched upward in a quiet smile. The sun had risen indeed.

*****************

The stars were twinkling overhead as Sam walked home from the Green Dragon that night. The storm had completely blown over and now cool evening was giving way to mild night. After a very pleasant day of fireside tales with Frodo, just like when Sam had been very small and Frodo then very shy, Sam had headed home only to be dragged to the tavern by his gaffer. Sam had been doubly irritated. He had many things on his mind and had wanted to think them through, but his gaffer had absolutely insisted.

"You be spendin' too much time at that place. Folk will say things. Lor knows theys are already sayin' things. 'Sides, Rose Cotton's been working at the Green for some few years now. Word is she's got her eye on you, though how that is I ain't got no idea. You just play your cards right, lad......"

Sam had heard it all before. He wisely avoided telling his aging father that he had not spoken to Rosie since Bilbo's 111th birthday party....

So he had gone, and sat, and smoked in quiet thought while the folk around him once again spoke of strange occurrences in the far corners of the Shire. Occasionally Sam would interject his two cents into the conversation but he was only half paying attention. Even when Rose Cotton managed to catch his eye and smiled (apparently forgetting the party incident), Sam could not keep his concentration on her. His mind kept drifting back to Frodo, dear Frodo, falling into his arms; Frodo quietly smiling; Frodo singing his own songs, reciting his own poetry...

It was Frodo that Sam was thinking about at the present as he gazed up at the stars, whistling softly to himself. The stars held an elvish light to them, or so Sam believed; that twinkled and danced and winked; sometimes soft and warm, other times bright and gloriously blinding. The light held some sort of mystery, because even though one knew what they were, one didn't understand why or how. Frodo too held that light. Sam had sometimes seen it sparkling behind his master's eyes. Other times, usually when Frodo was sleeping, it seemed to radiate outward from deep within. Still other times the light could not be seen but it could be felt, filling entire rooms with its presence. Sam loved and cherished that light......

"Like magic it is," Sam whispered to himself. "He's like that....." A breeze swept through the grass, tossing up fallen leaves. It seemed to whisper words of feelings from the depths of Sam's heart and soul. "You love him..." it whispered. "You love him....."

"Oh hush!" Sam cried aloud to the passing wind, then blushed, embarrassed at the sudden notion. He shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the ground with his feet. "What kind of thing is that to say? 'Course I love him," Sam mumbled to no one in particular. "He's my master and......well, he just is."

"You love him," cooed the wind, brushing through Sam's curls, reminding him of....

"Hush!" Sam exclaimed. The breeze began to die down. "Tell him..." it sang before fading away completely. *Tell him what?* Sam thought, although he knew the answer. *Tell him how wonderful he is....*

**********************

The next morning the sun shone brightly, a lovely April morn. Sam Gamgee got to work early, taking in the sweet fresh air of spring. Everything was pure and clean, ready to be born and grow. Many of the plants had shot up literally overnight and so did a few weeds. Sam had to make sure that they were uprooted before they choked out the rest of the plant life.

All through the morning Sam worked, humming to himself and listening to the gorgeous world around him. The gardener was trimming the grass-border below the study window when a familiar voice coming from inside stopped him.

"You ought to begin to understand, Frodo, after all you have heard...." Gandalf! It was Gandalf, returned at last after long years of absence. Sam was so overjoyed that he almost leapt up and poked his head in the window to say hello, but what the wizard said next halted him.

"A Ring of Power looks after itself, Frodo. It may slip off treacherously, but its keeper never abandons it. At most......" Gandalf's tone was unhesitantly stern and serious. Sam scolded himself for eavesdropping on his betters but he simply could not help himself. A ring of power? Sam had only heard of such things in stories of elves and the like, but Gandalf was talking about them as if they were right in the garden of Bag End! 

Feeling like a crook and going against all his better judgment, Sam laid his shears down on the grass and crept close under the window. *You tomfool!" Sam's common sense screamed at him. *You're going to get in trouble! Just think of the things Mr. Gandalf could do to you! Do you want to be turned into something unnatural?* Sam bit his lower lip in shame but did not move. The thought of the elves was too much to resist. 

The day wore on, and Sam's eyes grew wider and wider with awe and growing fear with each word spoken between the wizard and Frodo. A Dark Lord? Elendil? Gollum? Bilbo's old ring a weapon for evil? It was all too much for Sam. His mind tried to make sense of all the foreign words and complicated history, but in the end all he could gather was little more than: a)Bilbo's magic ring was very, very bad and b) the people who wanted it knew where the Shire was. The thought of the beautiful Shire overrun with darkness made Sam's stomach feel ill and tears sprang to his eyes. *Surely it ain't true!* He reassured himself. *Its all just a tale; just a story Gandalf's come up with. Good old Gandalf, always joking he is....*

"......I am afraid you are right," the wizard was saying currently. "The Ring will not be able to stay hidden in the Shire much longer; and for your sake and the sake of others you will have to go-"

A strangled cry sprang unbidden from Sam's throat. Realizing his mistake, the Gamgee clapped his hands over his mouth and cursed silently. Gandalf continued to speak, seemingly not hearing the cry. Needless to say, Sam was thankful.

But......Frodo was leaving? No, no, that couldn't be! Frodo was everything, the whole world to Sam. Frodo could not leave, not on some wild errand that he should not have been involved in in the first place! It wasn't right. 

Sam was suddenly aware that inside Bag End all discussion had ceased. He leaned closer to the hill, trying to hear something. What had happened now?

Then wack! Something struck him on his shoulder, knocking him back and causing him to cry out; and then Gandalf's hand shot down through the window and seized Sam by the ear, hauling him to a standing position. Sam Gamgee had been caught.

~_"Well, well, bless my beard!" Said Gandalf. "Sam Gamgee is it? Now what may you be doing?"_

"Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!" cried Sam. "Nothin'! Leastways I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me."

"I don't," said Gandalf grimly. "It is some time since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?"

"Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, beggin' your pardon. There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact."

"Don't be a fool! What have you heard and why did you listen?" Gandalf's eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.

"Mr. Frodo, sir!" cried Sam quaking. "Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honor, sir!"

"He won't hurt you," said Frodo, hardly able to keep from laughing, although he was himself startled and rather puzzled. "He knows as well as I do that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight away!"

"Well, sir," said Sam dithering a little. "I heard a deal I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and a ring, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain, and-and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them, too. Elves sir! I would dearly love to see them. Couldn't you take me to see the Elves, sir, when you go?"

Suddenly Gandalf laughed. "Come inside!" he shouted, and putting out both arms he lifted the astonished Sam right through the window and stood him on the floor. "Take you to see the elves, eh?" he said, eyeing Sam closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. (The Fellowship of the Ring: The Shadow of the Past)~

Sam shifted uncomfortably under the Grey Pilgrim's keen stare. Nervously the bewildered little hobbit wrung his hands and bit the inside of his bottom lip. Briefly his eyes flitted to Frodo, who was in turn gazing at Sam with an expression both amused and sad. Sam felt his face go hot and he looked away again. 

Gandalf hummed to himself. "I believe I have found something to shut your mouth and punish you properly for listening, Samwise Gamgee."

Sam gulped heavily and closed his eyes, ready for whatever Gandalf had decided was adequate punishment for Sam's blatant disrespect. 

"You shall go away with Frodo!" Gandalf declared.

Sam's eyes sprang open. Of anything else Gandalf could have said, this was the last that Sam had expected. Half of him leapt with joy at the thought of not being separated from his master and seeing elves and the like; but the other half quaked with fear of the big, outdoor world beyond Hobbiton. The two emotions collided with one another, and Sam could only mutter in a shocked state: "Me, go see Elves and all that? Hooray!" And then he burst into tears.

__

The daily things (like this and that and what is what)

That keep us all busy

Are confusing me

TBC

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Next chapter: The quest begins. Frodo and Sam pack up and head out together, and on the way come across a very special group of people. Upon seeing the elves, our heroes discover something very important about themselves. (This next chapter is my personal favorite!^_^)

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Added note: if anyone is interested in knowing more about my next fic I have put up a movie-ish preview on A Brief Soliloquy. I was very er........unentertained at the moment. 


	5. Beginnings

Simple and Clean

A/N: Finally, twelve days later, I update! I'm very sorry that the updates take so long. I try to update every week, but it is difficult. And this week I had to work on Exchanged (which I just now posted......two days late......cursed computer.). But, as I said before, this is one of my favorite chapters of this fic. As I was writing it I came across this song that fit with it perfectly: I Could Fall in Love by Selena Quintanilla-Perez. I added it to this chapter as an afterthought and was pleased with the results. The lyrics to Simple and Clean will continue probably around Chapter 14 (I'm running out of the lyrics!! GAH!) Until then I hope to find a snippet of a song to go with each chapter. Reviewer challenge!! If you have any song you'd like me to put at the end of a chapter let me know! Any and all help is greatly appreciated. Also, for you folks that don't like slash very much, you may want to be warned. This chapter is a bit slashier than others. My goal for this chapter (if anyone is interested) was to show that Frodo and Sam's relationship is growing, albeit not nearly as strong as it will be by the end of this story. Also, this is mixed: movie canon and book canon. The scene with the elves is right out of the movie. I absolutely loved that scene; it was possibly my favorite in the entire Extended Edition. However, the fact that Pippin is there is book canon. I like book Pippin very much; he's very cheeky. Not that he isn't adorable in the films; I simply write Pippin and Merry much more in book canon than movie canon because that is what I'm used to. 

To the reviewers:

Shawntee: Thank the Valar indeed! Sorry I did not get to you last chapter; I found your review only after I'd already posted chapter four. Oops. ^_^

Lila: We wants it?! Gah!! Another Gollum in our midst! ::Tosses fish in opposite direction then runs away.:: .....Nah, its okay. Gollum speech is very fun, no? I myself have begun to call my puppy (Who is named Meriadoc or Merry for short, by the way) 'Precious.' She gives me a rather nasty look sometimes, but that could be because I neglect giving her treats. Spoiled little thing, she is.

Shawntee: Again! Deja vu....well, hello anyway!

Luthien: Thank you! ::passes Luthien a cookie, then gives one to other reviewers as it is only fair.::

crazytook: Hmm......I'm glad you're enjoying the fic, even though you aren't a fan of slash. To each their own, I always say. And Simple and Clean is the basis of this fic, so don't run away!! Yes, I have been listening to the commentary. The first time I listened to it I was crying from laughter. About Sean getting hit in the shoulder: it doesn't say exactly where Gandalf hits Sam in the books, so yes, I did borrow that insight from Sean. Very observant!! You earn a prize! ::Hands crazytook Boromir.:: Be very careful with him......he's rather cranky at the moment. 

VioletRaven: I am very glad you liked that part! It was my favorite part of that chapter as well. Enjoy the Dedication Award. There are more awards to come!! By the way, I have been trying very hard to review your works, but this blasted (but beloved) sight refuses to let me. 

AnimeKris: Here is the update! I hope you enjoy!!

Bakemono: ::Gazes at the Magical Donut Crown of Magicalness in wonder:: Weeeeeeeeee!! Thanks much!! Now I just have to keep Merry from stealing it from me (the dog, not the hobbit.....)

Seregon: Yep, every chapter will be about the length of this chapter (I am quite long winded....). I'm glad that makes you happy; some folk do not like long stories. I too love details, to the point where it gets annoying. Also, I do not want to rush either, the story or the relationship between our two stars. Re: The long time period where Sam does not speak to Rosie: There is a "lost chapter" before this one that is very short where Sam bumps into Rosie in the market, but does not speak to her. Merry sees and does mention something to her. I plan to post the chapter after the entire story is completed, under a different fic name. As for Frodo's diary, I always thought he would be apt to keep one. He's so reserved most of the time, surely he has much going on inside that head of his.

Bunnybeanburrito: Very interesting pen name, BBB! ^_^ Here's the update. As for the fic growing on you, Fic-Be-Gone should take care of that. Too bad I swiped all the bottles from the corner store......mwahahaha.....

Chapter Five

Beginnings

"I've got blankets....change o' clothes....shovel....food.....water.....oh ninnyhammers, what am I forgettin'?" Sam grumbled as he rummaged through his pack, making last minute checks. He had already rechecked his overstuffed backpack three times but he still could not shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. He was thoroughly muddled. 

"I reckon I'll remember soon as we leave and I can't get at what I need," Sam said aloud, looking through the pile of odds and ends once again before sighing in resignation and putting everything back into the knapsack. 

Outside the air was crisp with September bite, the leaves beginning to fall from the trees in a ballet of color and the flowers shrinking back into their winter dens, preparing for the inevitable first frost. The long planned for and long awaited day had at last come.

Samwise Gamgee puttered slowly around his room bidding farewell to the place he called home. The bed he had slept in for as long as he could remember, where his mother had tucked him in at night with a bit of a song and a kiss on the forehead; the potted plants he had grown from seeds with loves perched on the windowsill; the tattered old desk May insisted they have; all of them received their just good-bye. Sam stood aimlessly in the center of the room when he was finished, a nervousness like he had never felt before churning in his belly. Stubbornly he told himself that he was being nervous for no reason. 

*Like as not Mr. Frodo and me will be back before the Bywater freezes.......* Sam thought to himself. Frodo's plan was to head to Bree where they would meet Gandalf and go on to Rivendell. Gandalf was originally to have accompanied the two companions from the Shire, but the wizard had failed to return as he had previously promised. The fact unsettled Sam as well as his master, although Frodo had convinced himself that Gandalf had been delayed and would meet them at the inn. Sam was not as sure, but if his wise employer said so then it must be true.

As he picked up his heavy pack from the bed and slung in onto his back, Sam vaguely wondered how far Rivendell was. He knew very little geography outside of Hobbiton and even less beyond the Shire. Mentally he shrugged and thought no more of it. *No doubt Mr. Frodo knows the way.*

The Gaffer was waiting for his son outside the smial, lounging in a rocking chair and blowing smoke rings up to the sky through pursed lips. His brows were deeply knitted together with age and long years of toil. Hamfast had had his share of grief, more than his share one would argue. Now the last of his children was leaving home to go live with Mr. Frodo at his new home in Crickhollow (or so it was that Frodo told everyone; except Sam, of course). Hamfast had always been a hard man, proud and stubborn. Few saw his emotional side; he hid it very well.

"Samwise!" the gaffer huffed as Sam came out of the quaint hobbit hole, pack hoisted on his back and eyes shining with unshed tears. Embarrassed and not wanting to be called 'soft', Sam quickly blinked the tears away and sniffed bravely.

"G'bye, dad. You'll be takin' care?" Sam asked slowly, knowing too much affection would only make his father even more closed off and irritable than usual. 

The gaffer grumbled something incoherent and took another few puffs on his pipe. At length he said, "I'll be takin' care 'bout as much as I can with them nincompoop Sacksville-Bagginses as me new neighbors." Ham paused a moment then rocked backwards, giving Sam a sideways glance. "You're gettin' that key back, ain't ya lad?"

Sam nodded. "Mr. Frodo said I could run it over 'afore we leave. He don't want them Sacksville-Bagginses in Bag End anymore than you do, da."

"Then why in the Shire he do it then?" the gaffer asked reasonably, blowing another smoke ring. Sam winced and fought the urge to shove his fist down his own throat. If he had blown his master's cover......

But Hamfast merely cleared his throat and rocked the chair forward again. "Eh, I suppose he had no choice in the matter. After all, they's his relatives. The only proper thing to do....but I'll keep that key! Leastways then I can be sure no real mischief goes on in dear old Bilbo's place. I won't have them fools routing up al your hard work in the garden neither, Sam."

Sam smiled a sad smile. For a moment his resolve wavered and he wanted nothing more than to stay at home and take care of the old gaffer, safe in the hill. He wanted to retreat to the familiarity of his own bed and never think about the outside world again. 

But.....

The feelings lasted only a moment. Sam had made a promise, both to himself and to Gandalf, that he would watch over Frodo and take care of him. Also, Sam knew that if he did not go with Frodo, if he remained behind, then he would live to regret it and become lonely and miserable without his master's kind companionship. 

"Dad...." Sam began, looking down at his father.

"You best be goin'," grumbled the gaffer without raising his eyes. "You don't want to keep Frodo waitin'." 

"Da....." Sam swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. It would do no good to make a scene. Hardening his will, Sam placed a hand lightly on his father's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'll be back one day, da."

Catching the odd tone in Sam's voice Hamfast looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "'Course you will, ninny, you're goin' to Crickhollow, not the moon." He turned his attention back to his pipe. "Now scat, a-fore Mr. Frodo leaves without you and you have to find your own way."

Tears pricked at the back of Sam's eyes once again, but he refused to allow them to fall. Nodding he whispered a clumsy farewell to his gaffer, stole a last look at Number Three Bag Shot Row as if to memorize its image, and then marched down the short walkway and up the road to Bag End. 

Hamfast watched him go with a heavy heart. "You'd best take care of my lad, Frodo Baggins," the gaffer said, more to himself than anyone else. "You'd best watch out for him...." With creaking knees the old hobbit stood up and hobbled into the smial. There were still daily chores to do. Time stood still for no one.

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"..........we shall have to change all this around of course, and move that, and paint over that," Lobelia Sacksville-Baggins had not been in Bag End for more than 45 minutes and already she had begun plans for rearranging. She moved like a tornado through each room, squawking to her rascally son Lotho about one thing or another that just had to be altered or gotten rid of. 

Frodo sat at the dining room table, rubbing his forehead in irritation. His cousin, Peregrin Took, sat opposite of him munching contently on a tea cake.

"Oh come now Frodo, stop that!" Pippin scolded. 

Frodo raised his head and gave his cousin an inquiring look. "Stop what?"

"That ghastly scowling. You shall look worse than Lobelia if you aren't careful."

Frodo had to fight to suppress a laugh; he didn't want Lobelia coming into the kitchen. "You had better not let Lobelia hear that cheek of yours. I am really in no mood to hear her shrieking."

"Why should she shriek? Its only the truth. She should know it; she does own a mirror, doesn't she?" quirked Pippin, reaching for his tea cup.

"Pippin!" cried Frodo with a laugh. 

"What!" She can't hear me; she's too busy rifling through your things. I would bet that she is still squawking when we leave. Pass me another cake!" Pippin snatched at the basket greedily as Frodo pulled it beyond his reach. 

"You have had quite enough. I fear to see what would happen if you'd anymore sugar in your body. We shall wait for Sam. He should be here shortly; you will survive the wait, I promise," Frodo said with a wistful wave of his hand. 

Pippin leaned back in his chair and sulked. "I daresay Frodo, you are becoming rather old. I hope something cheerful happens to get you to lighten up. You have been very close of late.....where is that Sam!"

"Here I am, sir!" Sam called coming in through the front door to hear Pippin's rather loud exclamation. Frodo turned his head toward the kitchen entrance and a moment later Sam Gamgee appeared with an overstuffed pack hoisted high on his shoulders. Pippin took advantage of Frodo's inattentiveness and snatched the basket of tea cakes back.

"Rascal!" cried Frodo. " Come Sam, you'd best sit down before Pippin eats everything on the table. Leave your pack by the door; the only ones who may trip over it are Lobelia and Lotho and that would hardly be much of a crime. "

Sam obediently did as instructed and took a seat beside Frodo. As Frodo poured his friend a cup of tea he asked, "Are you all ready to go, Sam?"

"Yes sir," Sam replied with a nod. "Leastways as ready as I will be. I can't shake this feeling that I'm forgettin' somethin'."

"Maybe its just nervousness," suggested Pippin. "About the move, I mean," the youngster finished quickly.

There was a pause as Lobelia exclaimed from one of the bed rooms: "Just look at these scratches. I would bet my life that that little ragamuffin did that on purpose!"

Frodo sighed loudly. "Not even a moments peace in my last few hours here," he said sadly.

"Is that Lobelia? What's she hollerin' about anyhow? Any respectable, lived in home is gonna have a few nicks here an' there. Its only natural," Sam said, frowning at his master's sudden downtrodden mood.

"I believe she is just shouting to make noise and to inform Frodo that he is no longer the master of Bag End," chirped Pippin, eyeing the cakes that Frodo had put on Sam's plate.

"But he still is, for another couple o'hours yet. She don't get it 'til after midnight to-night, if I'm understandin' properly," said Sam.

"Well, Lobelia sees it differently. She's mad I tell you! Did you know, Sam, that she brought with her an inventory of every single item Frodo had promised her?" Pippin declared incredulously. "She has been going from room to room, marking things off as she goes!"

"Has she? Don't she have anything better to do?" Sam pondered, eliciting a smile from Frodo. He had been thinking the exact same thing. The smile grew as Pippin tried to snatch one of the powdered cakes from Sam's plate only to have the gardener slap the younger hobbit's hand away. Pippin gave Sam an innocent look before dissolving into giggles. Sam raised an eyebrow but soon dissolved into laughter as well. Frodo , too, laughed, but inside he felt the weight of a deep sorrow. He looked upon his young cousin and thought *I wonder if I shall ever see Pip again. I can only hope that whatever evil is pursuing the.....the trinket I must carry does not ever reach the Shire.* Very suddenly Frodo was aware of the ring in his pocket, light against his breast. It was very strange, but the band of gold did not seem to be laying still, but vibrated ever so slightly with every breath Frodo took. It seemed almost........alive. And after all Gandalf had told Frodo.....it did not seem entirely impossible. 

A shiver shot down Frodo's spine but he forced himself to think of pleasanter things. Sam was coming with him, they were going to Rivendell, and they were going to see Bilbo again. *I really could not ask for a better holiday,* Frodo told himself. He gazed at Sam, who was trying to scold the young Took but failing due to the chuckles that still escaped his lips. Sam, so innocent, so free.

*Only to Rivendell.....* Frodo vowed. *We shall only bring the ring as far as Rivendell. Sam shall see his elves and then we shall come home. We shall come home...* 

But even as Frodo thought this, a fell voice seemed to whisper in his ear, _You shall never come home....._

*************************************************************

"I am absolutely starving!" Pippin wailed, staggering around the road melodramatically, his pack swinging around on his shoulders.

Frodo sighed. "Peregrin Took if you are ever full then all the rivers in Middle Earth shall dry up and the fish shall fly like the birds. We halted just a little while ago."

"But that was at noon!" Pippin cried. "Look, the sun is almost setting. You cannot expect me to go hours without a proper meal!"

"Heaven forbid it!" retorted Frodo with a laugh. He looked at Sam, who had remained quiet for the last few hours of the journey. They had walked part of the previous night and slept (rather uncomfortably) under the stars. Now once again evening was falling cool and swiftly, and Frodo admitted that he himself was feeling empty in the belly.

"How about you, Sam?" Frodo asked, looking at Sam with a smile in his eyes, his fey mood from yesterday's tea now nothing more than a vague memory. "Could you do with a rest?"

"I could go another few hours yet, sir," Sam replied stoutly and a little untruthfully, as was immediately proved by the loud growl of his stomach. Sam blushed and tried to pretend that the noise had not come from him.

Pippin laughed loudly. "Your stomach is truer than your mouth it seems! Good old Sam! Now we must stop, Frodo!'

"Alright, alright. Let's go off the road a ways. I do not wish to be seen by any unwanted travelers." Frodo led his two younger companions to a cozy little alcove in the trees a short distance away from the road. The trio lay down their packs and took out their pipes to have a bit of smoke while Sam made a small fire to cook their dinner. Pippin collapsed at the foot of a tree and leaned heavily against the trunk.

"No more walking tonight! My feet cannot take it! Oh, the stitch I have in my side!" Pippin rubbed at his hip, moaning pitifully. "I do hope Merry has bed and bath ready when we reach Crickhollow. I intend to sleep for three days straight."

"In my house?" Frodo asked as he dug in Sam's pack for the bowls and plates. 

"Yes indeed, in yourhouse. You have forced me to walk the entire way, cousin. Therefore it is only fair that you share your house for a few days." Pippin yawned. His eyelids drooped sleepily. "I would be a very...." he yawned again. "very quiet guest."

"Oh?" Frodo smiled. "Aha!" he declared as he located the china. 

"Supper's 'bout ready, Mr. Frodo," Sam stated proudly. "Few minutes more, I'd reckon."

Hearing this, Pippin tried to shake himself awake, but was soon nodding off again. The dying sunlight sparkled dazzlingly through the trees, falling on Sam's shoulders as he toiled over the cooking fire. Birds chirped merrily. Leaves chattered softly in the gentle breeze. It was pleasantly warm, and the air felt fresh against Frodo's cheek. No one spoke, save for the Sam's cheerful humming. 

Growing tired himself in the peace and serenity of the wood, Frodo pulled himself up onto a low branch of the tree Pippin was dozing under. Relaxing in the cradle of the thick bough the hobbit placidly puffed on his pipe. The tree gently rocked him like a mother would her child. The sunlight kissed his face. Frodo closed his eyes and listened to Sam's humming and the wind that almost seemed to sing to him.....

"A Elbereth......"

Frodo's ears perked up and he opened his eyes. Were those voices truly that of the breeze through the trees. Inhuman they sounded, more akin to the very voice of the earth than anything that walked upon it. Frodo lowered his pipe and listened.

"Gilthoniel......"

The last note of the word was held long and a chorus of other voices rose to join it with perfect counter melodies. Frodo's heart leapt with joy. This most certainly was not the voice of the wind. This was a ballad belted out by a choir of immortals.

"Sam!" Frodo cried in an excited whisper, looking down from the branch at his friend. Sam looked up from his fire quizzically. 

"Wood elves!" Frodo said the word in a way akin to that of telling a great personal secret. "Listen! They are distant but unmistakable."

Sam's eyes grew wide as he looked up at his master. Elves! Here, within the boundaries of the Shire? Not daring to make a sound Sam held his breath and listened.

"Silivren penna miriel...."

Frodo watched with delight as Sam's keen ears caught the sound. The gardener gasped and his face lit up like a child's on Yule morning. Frodo grinned and slid off the tree branch back onto the ground. 

"Real elves, Mr. Frodo?" Sam breathed, turning his wide eyes back to his master, who was putting his pipe back into his pack. Frodo caught Sam's eyes and compassion for the young hobbit filled Frodo's soul. As much as Frodo revered the elves he knew that Sam thought of them as something godlike, too precious and powerful to be thought of being in the Shire. Looking into the depths of Sam's chestnut colored eyes Frodo was aware of an intense vulnerability and innocent naivety. For a minute Frodo saw not Samwise the gardener and servant, but Samwise the lad who had eagerly listened to Bilbo's tales and lore. In that moment in the glade near the road, Frodo wanted nothing more than to fulfill Sam's longtime wish and make him happy.

With a secretive smile on his face Frodo crept over to his friend and, stooping close to the gardener's ear, whispered "Let's go see them, Sam."

Sam nearly dropped his cooking fork. The thought of seeing something he had heard stories of so many times seemed incomprehensible. "See them, sir?"

Frodo nodded. "Did you not want to see them?"

"Oh yes, sir, I did. that is I do.....But......do you think we could Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo nodded again, causing his dark curls to bounce off his forehead. "Of course we can, but we must hurry. Elves move quickly."

Still Sam hesitated. His eyes strayed to Pippin, now fast asleep with his arms folded across his chest and his head lolling onto his shoulder. "What about Mr. Pippin?"

Frodo followed Sam's gaze and chuckled. "I daresay he shall be fine. We shan't be gone long. Come, quickly now." Frodo caught Sam's fee hand in his own and tugged him to his feet. 

"Wait a bit, Mr. Frodo, sir, can't have this burnin'," said Sam, taking the pan fro the fire and setting it on a nearby stone. Then, leaving the dying fire to burn out on its own, the two hobbits tore through the foliage towards the sound of the ghostly voices. They had not gone far before the song had grown louder. Sam was in a daze as he ran swiftly after Frodo; Frodo with a smile on his face running towards a music that seemed to shape the very earth they stood on. Elves, they were real, and they were in the Shire, and in a few more moments Sam was going to lay eyes on them. It was a notion both thrilling and frightening. Then Frodo caught his hand again and the fear vanished, replaced with excitement. 

"Over here, Sam," Frodo whispered, crouching low to the ground. Sam crouched as well. "Quietly now!" Hand in hand they crawled though the underbrush, their skilled hobbit feet making little sound. The song of the elves was very clear now, and as the two hobbits huddled close together behind a fallen log they saw it: the passing of the elves. 

Never had either halfling seen such a sight. To Sam it seemed that the pictures Bilbo had drawn with care had sprung to life right out of the paper and into the forest. Snow white horses, silver banners, hair of silver, eyes of moonlight, tall and graceful, seeming to hardly touch the ground. Elves, all singing, all radiating with a light that stemmed from the very core of their being and, to Sam, seemed oddly familiar. The voices of the immortals rose and fell in perfect harmony; no note was sour, no word malformed. Wraith-like they were, appearing like apparitions, there and yet not there like a living dream. Sam did not blink, fearing that if he did so the urethral caravan would disappear into the sky. the song filled the air with its magic, making each breath feel like the very first ever taken. 

"Oh......" Sam sighed wistfully, raising his other hand to search for his master's without removing his eyes from the procession. "Oh...Mr. Frodo...."

Frodo's pale, delicate hands found Sam's calloused brown ones. Their fingers intertwined, both hands clasped now, joining the two hobbits. 

"I know Sam. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

Sam looked down at his hands meshed with Frodo's then looked up at the elder hobbit's cerulean eyes. He realized why the light of the elves seemed so familiar. It was the light he had grown to love so much. Yes, he had seen something as beautiful, but there were no words in his vocabulary to possibly explain that to Frodo. So instead Sam swallowed and turned his gaze back to the ghostly procession. 

"Where do you suppose they're goin'?" Sam whispered. 

"They are going to the Grey Havens," was Frodo's soft reply. "Beyond the white towers."

"They're leavin' Middle Earth...." Sam was abruptly struck with a deep sense of sadness, though for what reason he could not tell. 

"Never to return." Frodo's voice, too, was edged with sadness. His own words echoed in his hears like some sort of foreboding physical presence. His hand tightened on Sam's. Sam squeezed back.

"I don't know why." The gardener's voice held a tone that Frodo had not heard before. "It makes me sad." 

They sat for a while, hand in hand, sharing a common sadness that neither understood. Frodo subconsciously moved so that he was closer to his companion, so that their arms were touching. 

"My dear Sam...." Frodo's sadness melted away and was replaced with another, stronger emotion. His heart pounded in his chest and his palms began to sweat. The world seemed to swim in slow motion. 

~_I cold lose my heart tonight_

If you don't turn and walk away...~

*My Sam....* Suddenly Frodo did not want to "Mr. Frodo," Sam's employer. Looking at the elves, hand in hand, heading out on a quest with uncertain results, leaving the Shire for the fist time together.... Frodo felt at that moment closer to the simple gardener than he had felt to any one. Sam was his best friend, his dearest companion. Though Sam was not as educated as some, or as rich as most, the Gamgee lad often shared the same kind of thoughts as Frodo did. Frodo trusted Sam as he trusted no other, with the possible exception of Bilbo and Gandalf. Like a lightning bolt Frodo knew.......he loved Sam. 

~_Cause the way I feel I might_

Lose control and let you stay~

Perhaps he had from the day when a young Samwise had said so nonchalantly "Mr. Frodo, it ain't proper for you to play in the mud." Perhaps he had from the night of Bilbo's party when he had watched Sam disappear with Rosie with a sinking heart. Perhaps he had from the night Bilbo left for good and Sam had been there to comfort, to listen. Whenever it had started, it had grown and now it was trying to tear its way out of the hobbit and envelope the one before him.

~_Cause I could take you in my arms_

And never let go....~

Samwise Gamgee, gardener, friend, unrelenting protector......

~_I could fall in love with you~_

All those years Frodo could not have gotten through the loneliness if it hadn't been for Sam. He did love him. 

~_I could fall in love with you....~_

Frodo's throat felt suddenly dry. He wanted to say something, anything, to break this spell that had him, but no words would come. 

The elves had gone, their song fading with them. The sun had set as well. Sam turned to his master. Frodo's face looked kissed with moonlight. Earendil sparkled in the dark sky above. Again the wind blew in Sam's ear: "Tell him..." Frodo's heart chanted "Tell Sam. Tell Sam."

As if drawn by another's will, both hobbits leaned ever so slightly forward. 

"The elves, sir. They've gone now."

"I know," Frodo managed through his constricting throat. 

~ _I can only wonder how_

Touching you would make me feel~

Hands still clasped, their faces grew closer still. They were nearly forehead to forehead now. Frodo listening to Sam's breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In.....their eyes met. Closer still....Lips mere inches apart.

~_But if I take that change right now....~_

Frodo closed his eyes. Felt himself lean forward. Sam mimicked his movements. Just a breath away....

~_Tomorrow will you want me still?~_

"Hoy! Frodo! Sam! Where are you!" Pippin's high and slightly panicked voice cut through the forest. Immediately the two fell back, both turning the shade of the Red Book. 

*Tell him....I can't. It ain't right nor proper," Sam's inner voice scolded.

*What a fool! You shall terrify him; don't be so foolish!" Frodo's berated. 

~_So I should keep this to myself_

And never let you know...~

The two hobbits stood, ignorant to the other's thoughts, the shared moment splintered into blurry fragments. They hurried back to the camp where Pippin was frantically looking about, calling the names of his missing companions. It was quite dark and Pippin certainly did not like being alone in the middle of the woods.

"Where in the Shire have you been!" Pippin cried as Frodo and Sam came into the clearing. The youngster put his hands on his hips angrily. "You just left me here! What if I had been hobbit-napped or robbed? What if I had caught fire or broken a leg or cut my foot? What is a wasp had stung me or a fox had bit me or....or........I had fallen down a hole? what would do then, Frodo Baggins? I do not believe my mum would be too pleased with you."

Frodo winced. Even though Pippin was being a little over dramatic there was truth in his words. Frodo knew that there were people seeking the Ring, but they were still in the Shire and Frodo did not yet see any danger. Still, he felt badly about his cousin's anguish. Sam too looked at the ground guiltily. 

"I apologize, Pip, " Frodo said sincerely. "We did not wish to wake you."

"There were elves!" Sam blurted out, not wanting his master to take all the blame. "Beggin' pardon, Master Pippin, but we heard them and had to see...." 

"Elves!" declared Pippin. "There aren't any elves in the Shire! I daresay you must have eaten some bad mushrooms, Sam. Now, to compensate for your irresponsibleness, I say you both give me half your share of dinner."

"Not on your life, you greedy little underling!" Frodo exclaimed with a good natured laugh. "You are quite alright, obviously, and we were within earshot the entire time."

"What! You left me here, alone! I am being gracious with your punishment, I would say," said Pippin stubbornly.

"Don't start with your generosity, Peregrin Took. Sam has made more than enough for all of us."

Pippin sighed loudly, accepting defeat for the moment. He was really rather more relieved that Frodo and Sam had returned, and had only tried getting their shares of the food as an extra perk. 

The three of them sad down and ate the now cold meal together. Once finished, Pippin got out his blanket and cast himself onto the ground near the fire, leaving his elders to clean up.

"I am going to sleep. Don't you try to leave again or I shall set Merry on you the moment we reach Crickhollow," Pippin quirked, shutting his eyes and smiling despite his words.

"He would be more angry that you did not really fall down a hole," Frodo joked. "Then he would not have to worry about you stealing his breakfast."

"Always a laugh with you, cousin," Pippin muttered sarcastically. "Oh well. I forgive you. Good night!"

"Good night, Pip."

"G'night, Master Pippin!" Sam said, putting the dishes back into his pack and taking out his blanket.

"Are you going to sleep as well, Sam?" asked Frodo.

"I figured I might try, sir, if you follow me. Its awfully rocky out here." Sam rolled his blanket out near the foot of the tree.

"I suppose it is." Frodo toed at one of the said stones with his foot and reached for his own pack. He sighed. "And all my lovely pillows are back at Bag End being flattened by Lobelia and Lotho. But I guess that cannot be helped, not now, at any rate."

"I wouldn't fret about it, Mr. Frodo." Sam settled himself down on the ground with a bit of a grunt and pulled his blanket up to his chin. He tossed a glance over at Pippin. The lad was snoring lightly. Seeing it was safe to speak the truth of their journey, Sam went on to say, "I'm sure you'll be gettin' it back soon as we come back from Rivendell."

Sam broke off due to a yawn, then continued. "Or you could always lay up in Crickhollow, like you've been tellin' folk. Not that its anything like Bag End, but we could fix it up homey enough." He yawned again. 

Frodo smiled at the thought of Sam and himself, two young male hobbits, attempting to make a house "homey." He scattered the remaining embers of their fire and laid down on his side, facing Sam. "We could," Frodo agreed. He slid his arm under his cheek to cushion his head somewhat. Great weariness had suddenly overtaken him now that he was lying down. His thoughts drifted backward in time to earlier that day, as evening had turned to night. The elves' song, Sam's hands in his, moving closer, heart beats melding together, Sam's soulful eyes locked on his own.

"Sam....?" The name popped from Frodo's mouth on a will of its own. 

"Yessir?" came Sam's reply from the darkness. 

"Sam.........Suppose we don't come back?" This was not what Frodo had meant to say, but it had been something that frequently nagged at him. 

Sam was thoughtfully quiet for a while. "Well sir, I can't see any reason why we shouldn't. But I suppose if we don't it would be alright, if we were both 'not home' together." 

"Say that I see Bilbo again and cannot bear to leave him," Frodo suggested. 

Again, thoughtful silence. Then, "We'd be stayin' in Rivendell then."

Frodo smiled, deeply touched. "Sam?" He began again. 

"Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo opened his mouth, but forgot what he had wanted to say. "Thank you." Was all that came out. 

"Nothin' to be thankin' me for, sir. Its only reasonable."

Frodo hummed and turned over onto his other side. It was quiet once again, except for the Sam's shifting over the leaves. Frodo stared straight ahead into the darkness, thinking. Long minutes passed, and at last Sam seemed to have settled down. Frodo chewed at his thumb nail and decided to say something more.

"Sam?" He said, turning back over to face the gardener. Sam stared and opened his eyes sleepily, squinting through the darkness at Frodo. 

"Sir?"

Frodo frowned, feeling guilty for waking his friend. ".........Never mind. I was just......thinking." 

Sam peered at his master a moment longer, confused; but he was too tired to stay awake much longer. Smiling a weary smile at Frodo he settled back down and soon drifted off to sleep. 

*It was probably just euphoria from the song of the elves.* Frodo thought this to himself, but he did not believe it. The feeling was unmistakable now, this deep caring and compassion that refused to diminish. And Frodo had no desire for this love to go away.

~_And I know its not right_

So I guess I should try

To do what I should do

But I could fall in love with you.....~

TBC

*************************************************************

A/N: Ah, this is just the beginning. I know that in the book Frodo, Sam, and Pippin encounter the Black Riders before they meet up with the elves but I didn't want any big evil in this chapter. Also, I recently got an English to Elvish dictionary (weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee), so after Rivendell (where, presumably, Frodo learns more of the language) I will be utilizing it.

Next Chapter: The journey to Crickhollow is darkened by the presence of the evil Nazgul. Merry makes his reappearance and speaks with Frodo about certain issues. The Ring begins to sing its song louder. Onward to Bree, and just who is that scruffy, mysterious, pipe blowing man in the corner? Could it be.........one Aragorn son of Arathorn? (Note: Tom Bombadil and the Barrow Downs are included in this story, but it two "Lost Chapters" which will be posted after the fic is finished. Come now, I could leave out old Tom Bombadillo and his Wight song, now could I? No, certainly not....)

Don't forget the reviewer challenge! Any song you think will fit, let me know!! 


	6. Trust

Simple and Clean

Chapter Six

A/N: Ai me. This has taken a ridiculous amount of time to get updated. This is my fault for nitpicking at every little thing. I realized that in the last chapter I sort of screwed up the meeting with the Black Rider by moving it past the elves. Because of this, this chapter may be less in-canon than previous ones. Also, I was wondering: Is it getting boring, sticking so close to the book? Would you like me to venture off the path for a while? Obviously, some things happen in this fic that were not in the books, and I've tried to keep to places where these events could conceivably take place. What do you, my lovely reviewers, think? Is it getting boring seeing the events we all know being played out from a different point of view? Let me know!!

To the reviewers:

Bakemono: Of course I'm going to include old Tom eventually!! I'm a canon freak, after all. ^_^ And yes, Pip did ruin the moment. Fool of a Took!! ::glares at Pippin a la Gandalf:: Shame on you, frustrating the reviewers.

Shawntee: I think a good many people could say that about Pip. But we love him anyway, right? ^_^

Ce: Thank you!! And also, thanks for the lyrics to that song!! Woo!! 

Pixie: Thanks very much!! I'm dreadfully sorry you had to wait so long for this chapter. I hope it was worth your wait!!

Violet Raven: Yes, computers are evil, aren't they. Mine is particularly foul.....But I'm glad you appreciate the details. I'm trying hard to make this fic unique in a sea of excellent writings. 

ZoSo Gamgee-Baggins: ::chuckles:: Your reviews always make me smile. About the suspense part: there may be a little suspense in this chapter, I suppose. But have no fear; it will all work out in the end. 

Seregon: I hope you realize how much I appreciate your reviews!! They're always very constructive, and you always manage to pull out exactly what I was trying to convey! About Pip, I'm not too sure why he is considered the most food crazed. I personally was influenced by this line: 

Frodo: "And now leave me in peace for a bit! I don't want to answer and string of questions while I am eating. I want to think. 

Pip: Good heavens! At breakfast?

I love that line in the books and was sad to see it not make the movie. Oh well, they made up for it in a few ways.

XxPerriwinkleHummingBrdXx: Welcome aboard the fanfiction.net train. Occasional crashes are to be expected, but all around you're in for a pleasant ride. Ignore the pop ups on the tracks, and try to stay away from passenger Ms. Mary Sue. She tends to be a little icky. Just kidding. I'm glad you like my fic and I hope you'll come back to review again!!

One last note: It is very late here and I'm quite tired, but I'm determined to post this tonight. Please excuse all grammatical and spelling mistakes caused by slipping onto the keyboard. 

************************************************************************ 

Chapter Six

Trust

"It looks about to rain, Mr. Frodo, or I'm no gardener." Sam gazed up at the darkened sky. Night had fallen once again but there were no stars this night; nor any light of the moon. Thick and ominous rain clouds had rolled in earlier that day. A storm was coming. 

At Sam's declaration Frodo, too, looked up at the heavens. With a sigh he readjusted his pack straps and brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. "We should hope we reach Crickhollow before the storm," he muttered. 

Beside him Sam sighed. He knew the rain was good for the plants but he was no plant, and he did not particularly like getting wet. Pippin also mumbled something Frodo could not catch, but it was clear that the youngster was not pleased with the oncoming September storm. Pippin was also growing tired and was lagging behind his two elders. Frodo glanced back at him regretfully. Perhaps they should have taken a cart. The day had been long indeed. 

"Don't fear, lads, we are almost to the ferry," Frodo chirped, trying to sound cheerful. "Merry should be meeting us there, Pip. I'd expect he would grow tired of waiting; we are a bit late you know. I would not be surprised if we met him even sooner than Bucklebury. "

At that Pippin was cheered a little, but Sam still looked melancholy. Frodo knew that Samwise was not fond of any water deeper than waist high. He also knew that the gardener had never been past the Brandywine; indeed, Frodo was not sure Sam had even gone as far as that. It struck Frodo that as frightened and worried as he was about his journey he was, at least for the present, going somewhere he was familiar with. Sam was already far from home. Frodo longed to say some words of comfort, but he could find none that did not seem ridiculous or out of place. "We're almost there," was idiotic; he had just said that to Pippin. "Do not worry," seemed rude; Sam hand' said he was worried about anything. "You'll like Crickhollow," seemed empty and false; something a mother said to a pouting child. "Perhaps the moon shall come out" was a ludicrous thing to say; it was obvious the lunar face would not shine that night. 

Frodo glanced at Sam again. The gardener's face was shadowed in the darkness and his cloak swirled behind him like a river. But when Sam noticed Frodo looking at him Sam smiled faintly, chasing away any darkness from his face. Frodo was reminded of the elves from the night before, of how Sam had looked on them with wonder in his eyes, like a newborn child looking upon the world through blurry infant eyes.

Suddenly Frodo knew what to say. If anything could cheer Sam it was the elves, and since they were not there Frodo would have to substitute. His elvish was far from perfect, but he had been practicing and could string together simple sentences. 

"_Mornie lante,_" Frodo said softly, gaining Sam's attention. "_Silalye....ve i eleni, _Sam." 

It had worked. Sam smiled to himself and blushed faintly red. He didn't understand the lovely words but that didn't detract from their quality; nor did the incomprehension stifle the meaningfulness of what Frodo said. Frodo spoke the language of the stars. One did not understand the words, but they knew the translation in their hearts. 

Pippin watched from behind and smiled as the two drifted closer to one another and brushed hands just ever so slightly. They smiled at each other and Pippin knew. He didn't know _what_ he knew, but he knew all the same, somewhere deep in the back of his mind. *Gandalf chose Frodo a good companion,* Pippin thought. *Good old Gandalf. I reckon he knows about everything. *

Frodo returned his gaze ahead happily. For several minutes passed and the threesome walked in comfortable silence , Pippin thinking about the stories he would have to tell Merry; Sam deep in thought, clumsily muttering the elvish words in an attempt to decipher them with his very limited knowledge of the speech; Frodo chuckling to himself quietly as he readjusted the weight of his pack. Perhaps the night would not be so awful after all. 

They walked little more than another mile before a chilly breeze began to blow. Frodo shivered and pulled his hood over his head. "The storm is coming quick, it seems," he said, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. "We'd best pick up our feet a little more before we get caught in the rain, lads." 

"If we pick up our feet anymore, Frodo dear, we shall be kneeing ourselves in the stomach," Pippin grumbled, pulling his hood on as well. Sam said nothing, but shifted his pack higher onto his shoulders and quicken his pace. He had no desire to be caught on the river if the storm was to strike then. Casting a sidelong glace at Frodo he noticed his master shiver. 

"Are you warm enough, Mr. Frodo?" the gardener asked concernedly. Frodo started and gave his friend a small smile. 

"Quite, Sam. This wind just cuts through so. Where on earth did it come from, I wonder."

"I'd reckon east. That's the way its blowin' from, leastways," Sam replied, trying to make light conversation to take his companions minds away from the cold air and the now unforgiving road beneath their feet.

Frodo nodded absently. Something felt off and strange, though he could not decide what it was. More than before he wished to reach to ferry and reach the relative safety of Buckland. 

"Frodo...." something whispered suddenly in Frodo's ear. Startled, the hobbit looked around half expecting to see a dark shadowy figure the likes that Gandalf had told him about. Nothing. He took in a breath, and the voice came again. "Frodo..."

"Did you hear something?" Frodo asked, stopping suddenly and catching Sam's sleeve to halt him as well. 

Behind them, Pippin came to a stop and sighed. "Hear something?"

"A sort of voice speaking." Frodo frowned. Now that he heard himself speak the words he realized how ridiculous they sounded. There was no one on the road besides the three of them; certainly, no hobbit would be out with a storm afoot. He was not the least bit surprised when both Sam and Pippin shook their heads. 

"I haven't heard nothin' for a while now, sir. Its fair silent out," Sam said truthfully. 

"It's awfully late. I think you started dozing on your feet, Frodo old lad," said Pippin. He pushed past his cousin and Sam and walked on ahead, eager to get to Crickhollow. "There's no one out here, and even if there was I'm sure that they are just as tired and hungry as we are and will do us no harm. In fact, maybe they would be so kind as to lend us a ride the rest of the way." 

That said Pippin continued on. Sam gave his master and uncertain look, but when Frodo sighed and started walking again, he did as well. They did not go far before Frodo heard another sound, this one dry and scratching, dead leaves over gravel. *Baggins....*

The chill wind blew again, this time straight to the center of Frodo's being. It was almost numbing and brought with it a great wave of unease. *Baggins......Baggins......* 

He slowed down until he was a good deal behind the others. In his pocket, the ring felt as if it were buzzing, vibrating in its cloth hiding place. Frodo quickly put his hand over the pocket as if to hid the vibration. *Baggins....*

Sam, noticing his master had lagged behind, turned. "Mr. Frodo?" 

*Baggins...*

"I think we should get off the road..." Frodo said, his voice struggling to stay even. Then from down the road, behind them it seemed, came a shriek, long, loud and piercing, carried on the breath of the wind. Frodo jumped, Sam gasped, and Pippin froze then spun around. All three of them stared down the path. It looked twisted and ominous in the gloom, and in the near distance they could hear the clip-clop, clip-clop of hooves. It was no hobbit pony, that much was obvious. 

To either side of the road there was a little bit of a hill so that water would not flood the path. Pippin thought quickly and slid down the hill and into the rather nasty nest of brambles at the bottom. Frodo and Sam followed his lead and before long the three of them crouched in the darkness waiting for whoever the rider was. Sam fought the urge to fidget; his pack had moved to an awkward angle and it pulled uncomfortably at his shoulders. Laying down on the ground the way they were caused his shirt to scratch against his chest irritatingly. Not only that but the grass and dirt was beginning to make his skin itch. Still, the stout-hearted Gamgee did not move, fearing that somehow the approaching rider would h ear him. 

Pippin did not have the same mentality as Sam. He flopped back and forth, trying to keep as much of himself off the ground as possible. How the twigs dug at him. As he picked another one out from under his belly Pippin made a mental note to steal one of Frodo's blankets that night as a reward for making him crawl through the mud like a serpent.

Frodo lay stiffly, his piercing eyes scanning the road back and forth through the brush. The sound of the hooves grew louder and closer. Frodo shut his eyes tightly. It was no good looking; it was too dark to see anything even with his keen eyes. He desperately wanted to seek out Sam's hand, to seek comfort in the strength of his friend; yet we he tried to do so he found that he could not force his hand to move. Something restrained him; something kept his hand down as if bolted to his chest. Frodo was suddenly painfully aware of the ring in his pocket. Gandalf's warning seemed absolutely absurd. Bilbo had used the ring before. They were still in the Shire, no less. All he need do was put it on and whoever this rider was would never find him, never pry into his business....

Suddenly Sam gasped and grabbed Frodo by the arm. Frodo's eyes snapped open and he tore his hand away from his chest. What on earth had he been thinking? Gandalf would not give him advice for no reason; why had he almost blatantly disregarded the wizard's council just then? He looked at Sam, who was looking up at the road with a pale face. There, silhouetted in the black of night was a mounted rider, cloaked from head to foot in flowing black robes. Its horse, too, was black and huge. The air around it froze. Frodo could see his breath and the breath of Sam and Pippin as well. The three hobbits froze, not daring to move. The black rider dismounted briefly and stooped close to the ground. Almost it seemed like a hound searching for a fox; it seemed not to be looking for them as much as smelling for them. After a moment, the rider apparently gave up for the moment and remounted its horse before spurring the beast on and taking off down the road. 

The three of them stayed motionless for several minutes. Finally Pippin said, "Lets stay off the road. We can cut across the woods, I suppose. Lets stay off the road." He started to climb to his feet. Sam shuddered. "I hope I never see nothin' like that again. Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" Sam, too, stood. Frodo took a deep breath, forcing the chill from his body. 

"Yes. I'm fine, Sam. But I agree with you, Pip. Lets stay off the road."

************************************************************************

At long last (and with some help from Farmer Maggot) the three of them made it to the ferry and Crickhollow, relatively safe and sound, though the chill of the Black Rider was not forgotten. 

~_The travelers hung up their cloaks, and piled their packs on the floor. Merry led them down the passage and threw open a door at the far end. Firelight came out, and a puff of steam._

"A bath!" cried Pippin. "O blessed Meriadoc!"

"Which order shall we go in?" said Frodo. "Eldest first, or quickest first? You'll be last either way, Master Peregrin."

"Trust me to arrange things better than that!" said Merry. "We can't begin a life at Crickhollow with a quarrel over baths. In that room there are three tubs, and a copper full of boiling water. There are also towels, mats, and soap. Get inside, and be quick!" 

Merry and Fatty went into the kitchen on the other side of the passage, and buried themselves with the final preparations for a late supper. They had supper in the kitchen on a table near the fire. After the telling of the story of the black riders, Merry said "I should think you were making it all up if I had not seen that black shape on the landing. What do you make of it all, Frodo?"

"Courin Frodo has been very close," said Pippin. "But the time has come for him to open out. "

"Well!" Frodo said at last, sitting up and straightening his back, as if he had made a decision. "I can't keep it dark any longer. But I don't know quite how to begin."

"I think I could help you," Merry said quietly. "By telling you some of it myself."

"What do you mean?" said Frodo, looking at him anxiously. 

"Just this, my dear Frodo: you are miserable because you don't know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come on you sooner than expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you."......

"But I must go!" exclaimed Frodo. " It cannot be helped, dear friends. It is wretched for us all, but it is no use trying to keep me. Since you have guessed so much, please help me and do not hinder me!"

"You do not understand!" said Pippin. "You must go- and therefore me must, too. Merry and I are coming with you. Sam is an excellent fellow, and would jump down a dragon's throat to save you, if he did not trip over his own feet; but you will need more than one companion in your dangerous journey."

"My dear and most beloved hobbits!" said Frodo, deeply moved. "But I could not allow it.....I am flying from deadly peril into deadly peril."

"Of course we understand," said Merry firmly. "That is why we have decided to come. We know the Ring is no laughing matter; but we are going to do our best to help you against the Enemy." 

"The Ring!" said Frodo, now completely amazed. 

"Yes the Ring," said Merry. "My dear old hobbit, you don't allow for the inquisitiveness of friends......We formed our conspiracy." (The Fellowship of the Ring: A Conspiracy Unmasked)

It was a conspiracy, alright. Frodo was amazed at how his young cousins had managed to collect so much information. As the night wore on, and they explained everything to him, Frodo felt more and more moved, but also, more and more troubled. Could he allow his young cousins to accompany him on this journey when he was so unsure of the outcome himself? Certainly, the seemed determined to accompany him and Frodo had a notion that if he refused to allow them to they would simply follow him. In the end, all was settled. Merry and Pippin would accompany Frodo and Sam. Samwise seemed rather sad about the whole affair, and Frodo wondered if he was having second thoughts about going. If he changed his mind Frodo would not grudge him; now that Merry and Pippin were to go it seemed silly for Sam to go along as well. 

After the long discussion was over, they prepared for bed. Frodo lay awake for a long while, thinking. What lay ahead for them now?.....

************************************************************************

There was nothing but the mist. The thin blanket of gray drifted out over the sea, cloaking the gentle waves that lapped at the white sandy beach. The mist swirled around the base of a huge mountain of a tower, hugging the building like a child clutching at its mother's knees. A bell tolled once...twice....The mist swirled up and outward, covering all, becoming all, until the eye could see nothing but the silver-gray blanket. The sound of the sea grew louder; the lullaby of the Earth as she rocked her children. Then finally the mist parted and in the distance a strip of radiant green could be seen, coming ever closer, looking inviting and welcoming....and yet ominous and lonely at the same time. 

Frodo woke with a start and sat up in his bed, looking around with eyes still heavy with sleep. There was no island, no mist, no tower; there was only the bed, the dresser, the night-table, the washbasin, and the smooth wooden doors of his room at Crickhollow. It had been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. And an odd one, at that.

Frodo shivered and found that his blanket had slipped from the bed and was now a pile on the floor. Frowning, the hobbit rubbed sleepily at his eyes and reached for the blanket, deciding that once he had it he would return to sleep. Yet when at last the warm quilt was wrapped around his body Frodo found that he was wide awake. No amount of coaxing could convince his mind that he needed to sleep. 

With a scarcely audible sigh Frodo drew his knees up to his chest and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The dream had seemed so........real, in a way. At least, the feelings of sadness that had accompanied it seemed real. The sorrow had been tremendous, but in the back of his mind Frodo had felt a tiny beacon of hope growing. 

Frodo's hands were shaking. A feeling of unreality had set upon him suddenly. He looked at his trembling pale hands; they seemed distant and remote. Frodo had the sudden notion that he was outside of his body looking at himself, and that at any moment he would waver and fade like a reflection in broken water. And that voice, that faint yet persistent voice, began to whisper to him again. 

*If you slip on the Ring...* it suggested. *It will all become clear. You'll understand, then. What is the harm. That cloaked rider is far away, by now....*

Frodo laid back down on the bed and childishly covered his ears. Still the voice persisted. *Just look at it. It would be wise to make sure it is still there.....*

Almost unwillingly Frodo's eyes drifted to his shirt where the ring still lay out of sight, or so he assumed. But how could he be sure? What if the ring had slipped from a hole in the pocket and rolled into a crack in the floor boards? What if someone had snuck in and taken it? He had to be sure, had to check....

Slowly, Frodo lowered his hands from his ears and swung his legs out from the warm nest on his bed and put one foot then the other onto the icy floor. Just one look to make sure the ring was safe and then it would be back to bed.

The bed creaked as Frodo stood. He winced, hoping none of the others had heard; but not a thing in the house stirred. Carefully, so as not to squeak any of the floorboards, the hobbit took one step towards the chair where his shirt lay. A pause. Then another step. The chair seemed so far away, though it didn't seem so cold anymore. A third step. Closer. One more step would do it. He'd see that the ring was still there and then go back to sleep. There, he'd made it. His hand reached out to open the pocket. 

No. Frodo pulled his hand back quickly, as if he'd been burned. He did not know why, but he had the feeling that if he looked at that ring something awful would happen. What it was he didn't know; nor could he think of any logical reason for the feeling, but he decided all the same to trust his instincts. Still, it seemed to call to him. 

*What if it is lost.....you'll have lost it, you'll have failed the task Gandalf gave you. What would Bilbo think....if you lost his ring...*

Frodo backed up, bumping the dresser. He could not stay in that room any longer, that much was certain. Ignoring the cajoling voice, Frodo stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Once the door was shut, he felt very foolish, standing around in the middle of the night in his pajamas. Vaguely he wondered if he was going mad. Now that he was out in the hallway, what was he to do? Well first of all, it was no good stumbling around in the dark. As quietly as he could Frodo made his way to the kitchen and looked around for a candle. After many unsuccessful attempts, he finally found one and after it was lit stood in the kitchen looking around aimlessly. Sighing, he sat down at the table. 

"Yes, I am most certainly going mad," Frodo whispered to himself. He sighed again and propped up his head with his hand. How had he gotten here? How had he gone from a lonely, bookish lad to a hobbit well past his coming of age heading out onto a journey with his two young cousins and dear friend? What would he do if something were to happen to any of them? How would he explain to the Thain, to the Master, to the Gaffer? 

Frodo's thoughts drifted back to the ring. He could not help it. He knew it lay in that bed room, but he could not be sure. What if he DID lose it? He knew how important it was; what if he lost it and......

Before he knew it he was walking back towards his bedroom, candle in hand, with a mind to check and make sure the ring was still there before he went utterly out of his mind wondering about it. Suddenly a door opened before him and Merry stepped out, blinking wearily and pulling on his robe. Frodo felt his face flush. At least Merry had had enough sense to pull his robe on before stepping out into the night. 

"Frodo!" Merry exclaimed, surprised to see his cousin awake, and looking (in his opinion) rather frazzled. "What in the name of wonder are you doing awake? I was not going to wake you for another few hours, at least!"

Frodo tried to think of a decent excuse, but he could think of none. "I....woke up and could not fall back asleep. I suppose I am worried about leaving," he ended lamely. Merry studied him for a while then nodded slowly. 

"You have a right to be, I daresay," Merry said at length. "But I wouldn't fret about it. After all, you won't be alone; you'll be with friends. We could turn it into a bit of a walking party, Pip and I."

Frodo smiled. He had no doubt that Merry and Pippin could turn any situation into an enjoyable one. Then he had a thought. "Why are you awake, Merry?"

Now Merry smiled. "I thought that I would wash up before all of you woke up. I had planned to get everything ready, after all. Fatty should be up in an hour or so, to ready the ponies. Its several hours to sunrise. You did say you wanted to 'away before the break of day,' did you not?"

Frodo nodded. "Since I'm awake, would you like me to help you, Merry? I could ready supplies, or something to that extent."

"What? Are you mad? You've been walking all day. Let the walkers sleep and the loungers work, I say. Try to go back to sleep, Frodo. You tend to be rather crabby when you are not rested," Merry joked. He took the candle from Frodo and gestured with his arm at Frodo's bedroom. "Go on. I'll wake you before the sun rises; be sure of that." 

Frodo hesitated still. "Are you certain, Merry? You should not go outside alone, at any rate, not with those queer riders about-"

Merry put his hand on Frodo's arm. "Are you quite alright, cousin? You look rather...I can't say, but you don't look yourself." 

Frodo felt ridiculous all over again. He shrugged off the uneasy feeling and said merely "I suppose I'm tired. I'll be fine, Merry. Just a little shaken from this evening."

"Still?" Merry cocked his head to the side and looked at Frodo quizzically. "You are getting older, Frodo. Why, I remember when little could frighten you, save Farmer Maggot's dogs. I know!" Merry snapped his fingers. "That shall be our quest, Pippin and my own. You and Sam shall have the big, all important one; Pip and I shall try to find a way to make you less close and more fun."

Frodo genuinely laughed and in doing so felt a weight lift from his shoulders. A little ways more down the hallway another door opened and Pippin's curly head peeked out. He looked rather cross. "As happy I am to hear you two having a grand time, I do wish you would be quiet. It is hard enough to sleep with Fatty's snoring. Please! Honestly!"

"Sorry, Pip," Merry said, lowering his voice. 

Pippin frowned. "You had better let me sleep in, Merry Brandybuck, or when you come to wake me I shall bite your hand. And Frodo, since we will not be here long enough for me to sleep for three days straight I hope you shall oblige me one of your blankets on the next leg of this journey."

"You can have both, Pip," Frodo said apologetically. "Pleasant dreams!"

Pippin smiled slightly and ducked back into the bedroom, shutting the door none to softly behind him. Frodo and Merry laughed again, trying to suppress their voices. "Poor Pip!" Frodo whispered. "I suspect he is still rather cross with me for leaving him while Sam and I saw the elves."

"He'll get over it eventually, once he's had a decent night's sleep," Merry reassured. "Truthfully, Frodo, you really should get a good eight hours yourself, but you shall have to do with four if you go back to bed now. Good night! Before the break of day, Frodo, don't forget!" 

"Good night, Merry," Frodo whispered. "Thank you." 

Merry paused, wondering if he should inquire what Frodo was thanking him for but decided against it and continued down the hallway, the candle light bouncing off the walls. Frodo sighed. He felt much relieved, but something still bothered him. He started for his room but instead continued past in and stood before the door to the room where Sam slept. Frodo paused a moment before turning the doorknob slowly and entering the room. It was dark in there, but the storm clouds had parted just enough to allow a little bit of moonlight to filter in to the room. 

Frodo's breath caught in his throat as he gazed upon the sleeping figure, wondering what wonderful dream Sam was having; for the gardener's face was lit by a quiet joy, and his fingers curled tightly in the blanket. Perhaps he was dreaming about the elves. Now that Sam knew what they looked like no doubt his dreams were as vivid as ever.   
With a sigh Samwise turned over and hugged the thick fabric of his quilt to his chest. Frodo told himself that it was not right to be watching a person sleep; what if he woke up, it would startle him to death. Yet Frodo found that despite his mind urging to look away he could not. His eyes remain fixated on the sleeping hobbit. Compassion burned in Frodo's chest; white fire to his cool soul. He felt both awake and in a dream; and he thought vaguely that perhaps he still WAS dreaming, that maybe he had not woken up from that first shivering dream. There was only one way to know that this angelic being, this creature shining with a light that the eyes could not see was in fact real. Frodo's mind fought against it, but his fingers knew how to answer the riddle.   
Softly, softly his hand ran along Sam's forehead, brushing away the sun lightened curls. Sam did not stir, but his features relaxed into an oddly trusting face. Frodo froze a moment and nearly pulled back.   
*Don't pull away just yet, Frodo Baggins,* his inner voice said. *This may be the last time you see him in safety. Do not pull away just yet. Who knows what may lie ahead.*  
Nodding slightly to answer his own inner monologue, Frodo drew his hand along the curve of Sam's cheek. Sudden tears sprang to Frodo's eyes as if some forgotten memory or dark premonition had seized him. He indeed wanted to relish the moment. For some reason he felt he would need something to hang onto in the future.   
Frodo knew what Sam would say if he knew Frodo was thinking such pessimistic thoughts. "Don't be thinkin' like that, sir. Its bad luck, that. You gotta keep thinkin' it won't take too long. We'll be back, later if not sooner."  
Frodo swallowed and smiled as if Sam had indeed spoken. "Dear Sam...." he whispered, then bent and placed a soft kiss on the gardener's forehead. Sam stirred slightly, but did not wake. Frodo stole a last look at his loyal servant's face then removed his hand from his cheek.   
"We'll be back, later if not sooner."

__

I can't deny my feelings

Growing strong

I try to keep believing 

Dreaming on....

************************************************************************

A/N: Those lyrics were submitted to me by Ce!! Thanks Ce!! I'm sorry, I know I promised to have them arrive at Bree, but eventually I decided that this was a better stopping point. I was really not happy with this chapter for the longest time, which is why it took so long to be updated. School is almost out now, and with summer holiday comes more update time!! No promises, but I am planning to have the next chapter up far sooner than this one. If you want to know what's going on with this fic you can always check out my live journal. I put daily updates about how the fic is coming along on there, and also my inane ramblings about future fics. If you're interested, check out the link in my bio. 

I also apologize if this chapter is not up to standard. I personally think its the worst chapter so far, and plan to fix it in the distant future, when I have the time (cursed finals!!) So I apologize for having you wait so long for such a short chapter and I hope you all don't abandon me!! You guys mean the world to me!! ::sob:: Better chapters are coming, I swear on my precious (i.e. Merry....she's glaring at me....silly dog..)

Translations:

Mornie lante: Darkness fall!

Silalye ve i eleni: Thou shinest as the stars. 

Next chapter:

They really do reach Bree!! Frodo and Sam have a chat in the inn's parlor, and who's that shadowy figure? Aragorn son of Arathron, perhaps. Sam is suspicious and for the first time ever Frodo goes against Sam's advice. How will this play out? Also, a dream-like kiss in the moonlight under the white towers of the Gray Havens. Frodo's anguish continues....Merry and Pippin have a little too much ale...The drinking Song!! And more.....(It shall be better, by my word!!)   
  


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	7. Vanimelda Fairlove

Simple and Clean

A/N: ::ducks random objects thrown:: Apologies! Apologies! I can't say enough! Oh dear, oh dear.....::Picks up apple thrown at her by Aare and begins to eat it.:: I have an announcement to make! I am determined to get this finished by the time RotK comes out. (It makes the waiting less painful.) Because of this, I have uploaded not one, but TWO chapters for you all tonight. This chapter is very....twisty/turny. I actually did not want to destroy this chapter. Yeah!! This chapter (and the one following it) are largely movie based, mainly because it was far easier to write. See if you can pick out the movie-dialogue! 

To the reviewers:

ZoSo_Gamgee-Baggins: Ai! I love long reviews! Heh heh....silly Sam, always sleeping.....::re-reads down below:: Hmm....

Violet Raven: Yea! I'm glad you like that it follows canon; I've always been kind of afraid about that. I don't want to tamper with the story, only tell it from another view-point. I want for people to read this story and say "Hmm....well, that could have happened!" I'm converting people (or trying to)! Heh heh...Oh, say hello to your sister for me!

XxPerriwinkleHummingBrdXx: ::hands Sue-be-gone:: Use this well. Hope you're still here! (with all the slow updating...)

Ce: Another lengthy review! ::sniff:: I love you all. I'm glad you're enjoying this! 

Bakemono:*sigh* ::mops Bakemono off the floor and then sets bucket in front of computer to allow for next chapter reading.:: ::thinks:: ::hands Bakemono a cookie for melting. ^_^::

Aare: Ah, a new reviewer! ::ahem:: Well....I have updated! Welcome, and I hope to hear more from you! 

Chapter Seven

Vanimelda

Sam awoke the next morning feeling fresh and full of vigor. His sleep had been deep; his dreams were painted beautiful colors with the memory of a thousands sunsets. He had dreamt of the past, of a friend's smile at a childhood complexity, of a mother's touch after the worst of a storm, of the feel of his Frodo's breath on his cheek after an autumn party. With waking the memories did not fade, but instead gave Sam some kind of new strength and courage to carry on. The cry of the black riders the night before had chilled him, but the memory of Frodo's elvish words whispered under darkness of night warmed him better than any fire. Sam went to the kitchen whistling. 

"Good-morning, Sam!" Merry chirped perkily as the gardener entered the kitchen. He was stoking the fire; a glance at the front door told Sam that Merry had already prepared a great deal of their supplies. 

The Gamgee gave the Brandybuck a grateful smile , then said "Mornin', Mr. Merry. Is no one else up yet, then?" 

Merry nodded and set the poker down, content with the size of the fire. "Not yet, but I shall soon fix that. I think I shall go wake Pip up first, since he threatened to bite my hand if I roused him too early, and I would like to get all biting out of the way as soon as possible."

Sam, who had not heard the conversation earlier that night, knitted his eyes together in confusion, then decided it was better not to ask and said instead, " I'll be startin' breakfast then."

"Excellent," said Merry with a smile. "I'll just go wake my lazy cousins and we'll have a good last meal before we head off."

Sam frowned slightly, not liking Merry's choice of words. 'Last meal,' did not sound too encouraging. He shifted uncomfortably then said, "What'll you have then, Mr. Merry?"

"Hmm?"

"For breakfast." Sam had begun to bustle around the kitchen, seemingly completely at home. He had very little trouble locating anything, something that told Merry he had done a good job of setting things up like they had been at Bag End. "I know what Mr. Frodo likes well enough, but I don't know you're preferences, nor Master Pip's either," Sam continued. 

Merry paused and stood thinking for a while. Meal choices are very important to a hobbit. After a good chunk of time had passed, the Brandybuck gave up, saying " You decide, Sam. Just be sure you prepare plenty; you know Pippin's appetite, not to mention Fatty's...." 

Sam affirmed this with a nod and Merry left to go wake his cousins, leaving Sam alone with his good mood.

*************************************************************

~*

Sam's good mood had long dulled by the time they reached Bree. The journey there had taken days, and the foul weather was back. Drizzly rain spattered the four hobbit's faces as they rode and it showed no sign of abating. 

"I suppose all the rain the Shire doesn't get," Sam muttered from his place beside Frodo. "Stays right outside of it and waits for any hobbit to pass the borders and then dumps down on them. Right miserable, this weather is."

"Don't be ridiculous," Merry said from behind. Merry, being a Brandybuck, was relatively well traveled and knew very well that it didn't always rain outside the Shire. "Anyway if its less rain you want you could always go back to the Barrow-Downs; it certainly was dry there."

Sam shuddered, remembering the horrible rocky place that he and his friends had just narrowly escaped. They'd been stupid enough to get lost and if it hadn't been for Frodo.....

Sam shuddered and moved closer to his master. The things that had been whispered in his ear while under the Barrow-Wight's spell were unspeakable; never had something pierced the depths of Sam's heart with such terror. 

"Look Sam," Frodo was saying now, bringing the gardener out of his dark thoughts. "We are almost there. I can see lights, just ahead in the distance. We'll be staying at the inn tonight." Frodo sighed then, and cast his hooded head down. "I only hope that Gandalf will be there. I still do not understand why he's neglected to meet us so far." 

Raising his head again, Frodo turned to his three companions and attempted to smile. "Well, riding in the rain is doing us no good. Chin up lads; no more than a half hour before we are in dry housing." 

The Prancing Pony was dry housing indeed, but as the four hobbits got down off of their ponies and gazed up at the three-storied building, Sam found himself wishing that "dry housing" had meant anything else. It was a taller building than he had ever seen, save for the Old Mill in Hobbiton, and he certainly had never had the inclination to go climbing to the top of it to take a rest. Curtains were pulled across many window, some dark and some lit with a flickering light. As he gazed up at the inn, Sam could swear he saw unkind faces leering down at him, ducking out of the window just before he could get a good look at them. 

"We surely aren't going to stay here for the night, are we, sir?" Sam asked nervously, turning back towards Frodo; but Frodo and the others had already started into the building and didn't hear him. Sam gave a last distrustful look around the area before running after his friends. Once safely inside after Merry, he turned around and quickly shut the door behind them. 

Happy to be out of the rain, the hobbits pulled their hoods back and looked around the room. The front desk was right before them, a good foot above their heads, and just past it was the parlor, full of the inn's patrons, drinking, laughing, brawling, and (Sam was sure) swindling. There were more Big People in that room than Samwise had ever seen; Men, mostly, though there were a few Dwarves, and some of the local hobbits. The air was smoky, and a large fire hummed in the fireplace. Sam fidgeted uneasily as Frodo spoke to the inn-keeper and got them a room, but Merry and Pippin looked absolutely enthralled. 

"Did you see the size of those tankards?" Sam heard Pippin whisper to Merry. "They're nearly the size of my head!" 

"I'd say that they are bigger, and that, my dear Pip, is saying something," Merry whispered back, receiving a jab in the side from his cousin. "But you must remember, we're here to help Frodo. That means one of us must remain relatively sober." 

Pippin nodded and opened his mouth to reply , but Merry cut him off. "Never fear, Pippin! I shall drink enough for the both of us, so that you don't feel left out."

"Me!? Never! I see no reason why it has to be either of us. You are forgetting, Merry; we have Sam here! He'll look after Frodo for us, won't you, Sam?" Pippin asked, turning to face the gardener. 

Sam raised an eyebrow, but before he could reply Frodo turned to them, saying "Alright then. We have got a room now. Let's go see if we can settle our things down." 

"And then back to the common-room!" Merry and Pippin cried in syncopated voices. 

*************************************************************  
In a darkened corner of the busy inn, a man sat quietly, his long legs stretched out under the table at which he sat, his face head hooded and his face shadowed, his unseen eyes watching. He had been waiting. As he watched to four hobbits leave the front area and head back towards the rooms, he pulled out a pipe from the folds of the weather-worn cloak that was draped over his shoulders, lit it, and began to smoke thoughtfully. Perhaps tonight his wait had come to an end.

*************************************************************

"...And then out came Mayor Whitfoot, looking like a giant floured dumpling! As you can imagine, he was quite put off by the entire thing; and you can be sure Mrs. Whitfoot was as well, for she was the one who had to scrub all that chalk off him!" Pippin finished, with a wave of his hand. The small crowd of Bree-hobbits around him roared with laughter, and Merry clapped his cousin on the shoulder as he doubled over with giggles. The two of them were quite popular with the crowd in the parlor, and as soon as they finished the story of the collapse of the Town Hall in Michael Delving they were immediately asked for another. 

Frodo and Sam sat at the next table, laughing at stories of their own. "....which taught me never to wake Merry up like that again!" Frodo was finishing, tears of laughter in his eyes. Sam took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his own laughter. 

"You know, Mr. Frodo, its funny," he said when at last he had his chuckles under control. " When we came in here, I was worried somethin' awful. Its being in this strange place around all these....." He lowered his voice. "Rowdy big folk. But now we've sat here a while, and we've been laughin' like we were back home at the Green Dragon. " He stopped then, and took a swig from the tankard before him. Sam had something that he wanted to say, that he had wanted to say for a while. Perhaps it was the ale, or perhaps that courage that had been with Sam when he had woken up at Crickhollow was returning; either way, Sam swallowed, then cleared his throat. "We're not at home, and that's plain, but there's somethin'....almost as if...."

Frodo's laughter had stopped. He looked at Sam now with a smile of mild amusement, willing his friend to continue with his eyes. 

Sam sighed, and stared down into his mug. "When you asked me what would happen if you decided to stay in Rivendell, sir, and I said that I'd be stayin' too? Well, I didn't rightly know why I said what I did then sir. Not that I didn't mean it!" Sam exclaimed quickly, seeing the corners of Frodo's lips turn down slightly. "I did. I know now why I said it. Its like....when you laugh like you were....I think that..." Sam felt his cheeks turning red, and wished desperately that they would stop. It made him feel very foolish and unable to say what he wanted to. "Well, I think that.....that home is wherever you are, Mr. Frodo." He took another sip of ale, unable to look his master in the face. "Simple as that."

Frodo gazed at his friend, still smiling. Sam's cheeks were rosy pink; obviously that simple statement had taken a lot for Sam to say. Frodo knew his friend was always worried about over-stepping his place. He wished he wouldn't, but Sam came from a different world than Frodo, Merry, and Pippin. He had grown up with his father always telling him that he was a worker, a servant, and that he should never speak to his betters in a way that was unbefitting to him. So Frodo knew that to say something so.....innocently sentimental must have taken a lot of courage. Well, if Sam could say something then so could he! Only....what could he say? He couldn't say that the sun rose and set by Sam, that the stars shone for him, that the flowers bloomed for him, to Frodo anyway. Or could he? Dare he?

"I-" Frodo started. 

"Frodo! " Merry's voice interrupted. Frodo started and looked to the opposite table where his cousins were sitting turned in their seats to beckon at him. "Frodo, come on! Let them have a song; one of Bilbo's bizarre ones!"

Frodo looked back at Sam, who had finally raised his head up and gave Frodo a smile. "Go on, sir. Just be careful, mind you." 

"Oh, no..." Frodo stuttered, turning back to Merry. "I couldn't....I would make a fool of myself..."

"You can't make any more a fool out of yourself, Frodo love, so come on!" Pippin quirked. "Merry and I shall help you, if you choose one we know." 

"But-"

"A song! A song! Sing us something we haven't heard before!" cried the group of Bree-land hobbits. Frodo threw one last glance at Sam before Merry had hopped onto their table and pulled Frodo up as well. Frodo shot Merry a glare, but then found himself looking down at a crowd of expectant faces. So, he took a deep breath and began the first song that came into his mind. 

_There is an inn, a merry old inn_

beneath an old gray hill, 

And there they brew a beer so brown

That the Man in the Moon himself came down

One night to drink his fill.....

And Sam saw Frodo up there, laughing and singing along side his cousins (who joined in around the third verse; like most of Bilbo's songs this one was quite lengthy) and he loved him, oh how he loved him. How he wanted to go and take him by the hands and swing him around the way lands did with lasses at parties, and join him in his song, and then later tell him stories until they both fell asleep. A smile that had nothing to do with drunkenness or Frodo's comedic performance spread over the gardener's lips. 

Beside him one of the Bree-land hobbits elbowed Sam in the side and said with a laugh "What a show! Have you lads got a reason for bein' here in Bree, or are you like a traveling circus or something?"

Sam smiled to himself and shook his head. "We've got our reasons, weather they be big or small to you." 

Suddenly there was a loud crash and a gasp went up from the crowd. Sam had turned to look at the hobbit who had spoken to him and now both of them looked up at the sound. Merry and Pippin stood staring at the ground, their mouths hanging open in shock. Apparently, Frodo had fallen but....where had he gone?

"He's vanished!" Someone cried. "He's disappeared!" 

Sam's heart took a dive and he choked. Disappeared? Bilbo had disappeared during his farewell party, something that had been because of-

"The ring.." Sam breathed, so quiet he couldn't even hear himself. He caught Merry and Pippin's eyes and saw that they were thinking the same thing. Frodo had somehow put on the Ring....

*************************************************************

Frodo never felt the thud as he hit the ground. He had gotten a little too into his performance and slipped. Now the world swished around him, the figures around him shadowy and distorted. Where was he? Panicking, he scooted back until his back struck something behind him. Was he trapped? There was heat on his face, growing warmer and warmer. Something hot had encircled his finger, Frodo noticed now, and looking down he saw the Ring, its gold glowing with an eerie light. He heard something then, and when he looked up even the shadowy figures around him had vanished, incinerated by the flame of a giant lidless eye, which stared directly at him. Frodo opened his mouth to scream; it was horrifying this thing; but no sound would come out. *Take it off!* Something screamed; Frodo was surprised to discover it was his own mind. *The Ring! Take it off!* 

Shaking with fear, Frodo groped with his other hand to tear the Ring off of his finger. At once after he did so the world became clear again, the Eye vanished as if it had never been. The thing Frodo had bumped into was the leg of a table, which he was now cowering under, breathing as if he had just ran a great distance. He forced himself to take a deep breath, then closed his eyes in relief. A second later his eyes snapped open as a rough hand grabbed him by his shirt sleeve and hauled him out from under his hiding place. 

"I think you've drawn a little too much attention to yourself, _Mr. Underhill,_" growled a deep voice as it shoved him upstairs. Frodo felt as if he had escaped the fire-pan only to land in the fire. He dared not struggle as the man pushed him into a room on the second floor and shut the door behind them. Frodo ran over to the opposite side of the room and turned to face his assailant, a tall, cloaked man, whose face was hidden in the shadow of his hood. Frodo recognized him; he had seen him earlier that evening in a corner of the parlor. The inn-keeper had called him Strider, and said he was a Ranger. If that were true, then what did this Strider want with him?

"Who are you?" The hobbit demanded as he looked around the room for something with which to defend himself with. 

"I can avoid being seen when I wish to," said the strange man, as he went around to the lit candles and pinched the flames with his fingers to extinguish them. "But to avoid being seen entirely, that is a rare gift." With a sweep of his hand the man dropped back his hood, revealing a haggard-looking face, lined with age and yet not old; hair scraggly and dark with the faintest touches of gray. Keen eyes, sea gray and searching studied the hobbit across the room. 

"Who are you?" Frodo asked again, though the shrill tone left his voice. 

The man was quiet a moment. Then he asked, "Are you frightened?"

Frodo hesitated, but ultimately found no reason why he should lie and say he was afraid when he clearly was. "Yes." 

The dark-haired man laughed ruefully. "Not nearly frightened enough." 

Suddenly the door to the room burst open and there were Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Merry and Pippin both looked rather frightened but Sam looked furious and ready for a fight. 

"Let him go!" Sam demanded, holding his fists in front of him, ready to take on this grown man who was nearly twice his size and weight. "Or I'll have you, long-shanks!" The hobbit added as an extra touch. *

The man laughed again, and the hand that had flown to his belt seeking an unseen weapon now drew up to his side in a gesture of surrender. 

"Peace! I mean you know harm. I apologize for the rough way I drew you all here, but I needed to speak to you, and after seeing that little stunt of yours-"

"It was an accident!" Frodo cried. 

"I decided I could wait no longer," the stranger continued without heeding Frodo's words. "I am called Strider, and I seek to aid you. I know what hunts you." 

The room grew quiet. Frodo stood still, watching this Strider carefully. Merry and Pippin had come in and now stood silently beside each other near the door. Sam bravely strode across the room to stand beside Frodo. 

"Aid us?" Sam said incredulously. "You expect to aid us by haulin' my master up the stairs without any explanation and scarin' the rest of us near to death by it?! Aid us...." he huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the man. 

"I beg you only to listen to me. I'll tell you why I wish to help you and how I know you, _Mr. Baggins._ " Strider paused to glance at Sam. "Then you may judge my case as you will." 

Frodo nearly winced at the mention of his true name. Now he must listen to this man, for he knew Frodo's real name, and he had not given it to any in Bree. Beside that, he felt no maliciousness from this person. Strider did not fill him with fear the way the black riders had, nor even give him the unpleasant chilled feeling the way some of the men in Bree did. 

"Very well," Frodo said slowly. "We will listen to what you have to say." 

Right then there was a quick rap on the door and in bustled the inn-keeper with a sealed letter in his hand. Strider retreated to a dark corner. After much chatter Frodo managed to decipher that it was a letter addressed to him from none other than Gandalf. Once the inn-keeper finally departed, Frodo broke the seal and opened the letter. The other hobbits gathered closer around him and read the letter with him. Strider remained where he was. 

_Dear Frodo,_

Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag-End at once. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord. You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you.

P.S. Do NOT use IT again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night!

P.P.S. Make sure it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn. 

All that is gold does not glitter

Not all those who wander are lost

The old that is strong does not wither

Deep roots are not reached by the frost

From the ashes a fire shall be woken

A light from the shadows shall spring

Renewed shall be the blade that was broken

The crownless again shall be king.

Fare Well!

Gandalf

Frodo finished reading and looked at Strider, who leaned almost carelessly against the wall, fingering the hilt of the sword at his side. With a cry of surprise Frodo realized that the sword would have done little even if a foe had come upon them; it was broken a little ways past the hilt. 

There was a long pause. Then Frodo said quietly, "Alright then. You have guessed my true name. It is only fitting, then, that you share yours with us."

Strider looked slightly taken aback at this, but he nodded shortly and replied, "That is fair enough. I have many names in many different tongues of Middle Earth, but my given name is this: I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and if by my life or death I can serve you, I will." 

There was again silence, and Sam leaned close to Frodo. "I still don't trust him, Mr. Frodo. Don't like the look of him, really. He could.....he could be pretendin'; maybe he read the letter before we got to it."

Frodo frowned. He doubted that was the case; the seal had been intact. He thought for a while, a good minute or two, before making up his mind. They were in a town full of strangers, he had little idea of how to get to Rivendell, and as Strider had reminded him, they were still being hunted. 

"I will trust you," Frodo said. "I do not think you are a servant of the enemy. I think an enemy would look fairer but seem fouler."

Strider grinned. "Meaning I look fair but feel foul. Very well then, Frodo Baggins. We must move at once. The enemy of which you speak has been alerted by your presence. You cannot stay here tonight."

Frodo nodded and looked at Merry and Pippin. Pippin looked relieved to hear that Frodo trusted this person, Merry still seemed unsure, and Sam was looking at Frodo with sad eyes, no longer relaxed as they had been in the parlor before Frodo's fall. Frodo turned his eyes away. *Oh Sam...* he thought with a pull in his heart. *If only I could have told you what I wanted to...* 

*************************************************************

"Mr. Frodo, if there's somethin' botherin' you, then you just tell your Sam; he'll fix it straight away-" Sam started in a not-so-quiet whisper, glaring accusingly at Strider who paid no attention and continued to gaze out the window at the street outside. They had moved in a hurry, but they hadn't gone far, only across the street. Frodo suspected Strider could see the Prancing Pony from where he sat, for he had sat down in the chair and not moved since they arrived.   
  
Frodo shook his head hurriedly and tried to make his head sink further into the stiff pillow. "It is nothing, Sam. I've just a headache; no doubt it shall be gone by morning..."   
  
On the other side of the bed Merry grunted in his sleep and Frodo felt the bed shift as his cousin turned over.   
  
"Oi!" Pippin exclaimed in his sleep then turned over as well; apparently Merry had kicked him in his movement. The change in position caused them all to become quite cramped on Frodo's side, and Frodo found that now Sam's side was pressed against his back. Sighing, Frodo turned back over onto his back, folded his hands across his chest and stared up at the darkness. As he did so, the Ring shifted in his pocket, something that the hobbit was acutely aware of. He shivered, and tried not to think of the great eye of fire that had burned before him when the Ring had slipped onto his finger (he had been so careless! So clumsy!) or the cloaked riders who Strider had said were seeking him even now. Sam, being very near to Frodo, noticed the shiver and misunderstood it.   
  
"Are you cold, Mr. Frodo, sir?" He asked worriedly. "Those rascals, hogging the blanket like that-"  
  
"No, Sam, I'm fine," Frodo said tensely, then closed his eyes determined to go to sleep. Suddenly, there was a crack outside and Frodo jumped a mile, as did Sam. Judging by the snores, Merry and Pippin hadn't heard it, however. As Frodo sat up, convinced that the black riders were feet away from their room window, Strider glanced at him unconcernedly and said simply "The door slamming at the tailor shop next door. I don't believe the seamstress is pleased with her husband."   
  
Frodo let out a breath of relief and Sam looked at him, his eyes swimming with concern, before glaring daggers at the man by the window as if the slamming door had been his fault. Frodo returned to his previous position and closed his eyes again. Sam remained sitting up; Frodo had no doubt that his friend was entirely sure that if they all nodded off Strider would rob them blind, or worse.   
  
The room remained quiet. Down the hall a floor board squeaked. Somewhere a dog barked. Pippin muttered something that sounded oddly like "flour" in his sleep. There was a light thud against the headboard and Frodo knew that Sam was leaning back, eyes still open but probably becoming overcome with tiredness. The Ring shifted in Frodo's pocket again.  
  
Slowly, slowly, sleep took the Ring bearer.   
  
_It was so dark, so dark. He was in a tunnel, a great stone tunnel with a ceiling that stretched high above his head. They reminded him of the goblin-tunnels in Bilbo's stories, and he wondered if he would end up before the Goblin king just like Bilbo had. But wait, he didn't have an elvish sword, and Gandalf wasn't there-  
There was a fiery light at one end of the tunnel. Frodo walked towards it; maybe it was daylight. It grew closer; the walls danced with the shadows the light cast now...closer....  
It wasn't daylight. As Frodo walked though the tunnel's exit he was suddenly blinded by an eye, a great flaming eye staring down at him with malicious glee. With a cry Frodo stumbled back into the safety of the tunnel, but then he heard a cry that was not his own. Spinning around, Frodo saw that he was not in a tunnel at all anymore; he was back at Bag End in the garden, and by the gate was his dear Sam facing four wraiths, living shadows in the sunshine of the Shire.   
Sam was refusing to let them in. Frodo felt the Ring burning against his chest, then looked down to see it giving of a bright light, a beacon to the ones hunting it. Quickly, the distressed hobbit tried to hide the light with his hands but the wraiths had already seen it. They tried to move past Sam, but the little gardener was indignant. He spread his arms and refused to budge.   
There was a gleam of metal and then a hot splash across Frodo's face. Keeping one hand clasped over the glowing Ring he gingerly reached up to see what had splashed him. With a choked cry he looked at his hand: his fingers were covered in blood. With his stomach knotting up in rising horror, he looked back at Sam. His dear one stood, mouth gaping, hand clenched tightly in the fabric over his chest. Scarlet wept from between his fingers.   
Tears spilled over Frodo's lashes and he with a cry of disbelief he tried to run to his Sam, but instead of getting closer the cloaked figures and Sam got farther away.   
_  
"No, no, take it!" Frodo woke, muttering to himself, though he had screamed the words in his dream. Blinking, he sat up in bed, looking around, disoriented. He was still in the inn, still in the large bed that he shared with three others. It was with a suppressed cry of joy that he saw Sam beside him, finally asleep, though still sitting up. His chest rose and fell rhythmically; he was perfectly alive.   
  
The dream still burning in his mind, Frodo grasped Sam's hand, ran his fingertips over Sam's forehead, and muttered in praise "Thank the Valar."   
  
Soft though Frodo had said the words, Sam stirred and opened his eyes, peering at Frodo with half-lidded eyes. He was still quite asleep, but noticed Frodo all the same.   
  
"All right, Mr. Frodo?" he said thickly, his eye lids drooping.   
  
Frodo smiled slightly and nodded, two tiny tears of relief escaping onto his cheekbones. Sam smiled stupidly and brushed them away with the back of his hand.   
  
"Okay then...."he trailed off, very near to drifting back to sleep.   
  
Frodo smiled fondly and bowed his head to kiss Sam on the forehead in good-night, but at the very last moment Sam looked up again and Frodo caught his lips instead.   
  
It was only for the briefest of moments, but a jolt spiraled through Frodo's body, and the love inside him swelled. For the briefest moment he felt as if something long missing had returned to him, but then he pulled away and the feeling was lost. Sam was already back asleep, an odd smile on his face. Frodo sat perfectly still for a moment, his heart pounding and his lips still tingling with Sam's warmth. He glanced down at his hand. Sam had not released it.   
  
Something shifted by the window and Frodo realized he had forgotten about Strider in the fear following his dream. Frodo slowly gazed over at the chair where the Ranger sat, a blush slowly creeping over his cheeks. Strider, however, gave no indication that he had witnessed anything.   
  
"I...I had a nightmare...." Frodo said unnecessarily. Strider merely nodded and continued to look steadily out the window. Frodo suppressed a sigh and looked down at Sam's hand grasping his own. That dream could very well come true, Frodo knew. The knowledge of just how great of danger they were all in hung heavily in Frodo's head. How could he have agreed to let Sam come, and Merry and Pip too?! They were so naive; Frodo knew that the black riders had terrified his younger kind and friend at the time, but as soon as the threat was gone the three of them seemed to think them as nothing more than bad dreams. Frodo had admittedly felt the same way, but after seeing that Eye, that burning eye that seemed to look directly at him, piercing his flesh with its gaze...  
  
Frodo glanced again at Strider. The man still did not remove his gaze from the window. "Have you seen anything?" Frodo asked suddenly. Strider's eyes flitted to him briefly and he shook his head before looking back out the window. Frodo noticed then, and for the first time, that despite the man's calm demeanor his hand gripped the hilt of the broken sword that lay hidden under his cloak.   
  
Frodo thought suddenly of what could happen if Sam was right, if this man wasn't to be trusted, if he was a servant to the enemy, if he...if he was after the Ring!  
  
Frodo's free hand sought his pocket and delved into it to grace the cool metal inside. Strider could take it from him easily, while they were all sleeping. And yet....  
  
And yet Strider hadn't. And Gandalf had named him a friend, even if it had been in a letter. And the dark haired man had really done nothing to merit extreme suspicion...  
  
Frodo forced his hand away from the Ring. His fingers had started to run over the smooth surface of it almost against his will and he did not want to risk another incident. Instead, he patted Sam's hand and then moved to help his friend lie down. Sam protested lightly in his sleep, but before long Frodo had gotten him lying down and he was asleep as soundly as Merry and Pippin. Hesitantly, Frodo took his hand away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Even if Strider was trust worthy, after that horrible nightmare Frodo was certain he would not sleep anymore that night. 

Biting his thumbnail, he began to pace the floor. Would Sam (oh, his dear Sam) remember what had happened just a little while ago when he woke up? And if he did? It had been an accident....hadn't it? Yes, of course it had been...certainly....an accident....

Suddenly Strider moved, rising from his chair and stepping back from the window. 

"What is it?" Frodo asked. 

"They've come." 

Frodo felt the color drain from his face. A long, wailing shriek tore through the air. Several more followed, accompanied by bangs and crashes from the inn across the way. Sam cried out and shot up in bed, his eyes darting around wildly. "Mr. Frodo!" he exclaimed upon seeing Frodo was not beside him, then relaxed when he saw his master standing on the other side of the room. Another shrill cry sounded, waking Merry and Pippin. Pippin shrank against the headboard of the large bed in terror; Merry put a comforting arm around his cousin and said aloud "What _are_ they?"

Another scream. 

"They were once Men, kings of Men," Strider said softly, looking at the frightened hobbits. "Then Sauron gave to them each a Ring of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into shadow. They are the Nazgul, ring wraiths, neither living nor dead." Now his glance flickered over to Frodo. "They will never stop hunting you." 

Another cry, this time followed by the wild neighing of many horses. Sam shuddered and Frodo walked back to the bed to sit by him. 

"They're horrid, Mr. Frodo. Like something that's leapt out of a nightmare," Sam muttered, drawing his knees up to his chest in an oddly childlike manner. Frodo wanted to reach out and rub his back soothingly, but something stopped him. Something shifted in his pocket. Something sinister. Something tiny. Something laughed at him.

_"Like something that' s leapt out of a nightmare..._" 

There was one last dying shriek and then the galloping of horses faded away. The Nazgul had gone....for the moment. 

_"They will never stop hunting you,"_ said the laughing voice. _"Or your friends."_

"We will set out as soon as it is light," Strider said then. "We shall make for Rivendell."

"Rivendell." Frodo repeated softly to himself. Rivendell, that was right. To Rivendell to leave the Ring with the elves, then no further. 

__

By the calm sea of the evening, we had lots of fun together

You, who are so warm to me, I saw your dream

Like this was our first love, our spirits were made to dance

Every time we passed by, we became so sweet with each other

As we shined together, as we laughed together, the seas changed

My love, that time we talked about the future

Ah, after it all, when I look back on it

Warm feelings are all I have

Ah, you are so radiant

Shine like that forever more

*************************************************************

~*: There are two "Lost Chapter" during this point, set during Tom Bombadil and The Barrow Downs. They'll be posted after the main story is finished, so all you Tom fans have no fear!

*: From LotR: FotR

Vanimelda: Fair-love

Song: I Saw Your Dream/From: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon

Lyrics: Shiramine Mitsuko 

A/N: Ha! First kiss!! Well, sort of. ::does dance and hands out sodas::

Next chapter: Don't ask me! Its already posted! Whee!  



	8. Fog

Simple and Clean

Chapter Eight

A/N: Well, I told you that I had a treat for you all! Here you go, a the eighth chapter already posted and waiting for your reading pleasure! This one may be a bit shorter than the others, but it is the set up for Frodo and Aragorn's friendship. Enough of my jabber; onto the chapter!

*************************************************************

Chapter Eight

Fog

The new day was fair, pleasantly sunny and lacking the humidity that had built up previous to the night's storm. Merry blinked up at the sun, happy for warmth on his face. Behind him, Pippin was skipping along over sticks and stones, seemingly forgetting the night's previous terror. Up in front walked Strider, with Frodo beside him. The ranger did not seem able to make up his mind of which way to go. He would start to venture one way, only to steer off of his path an hour or so later. More than once he doubled back and took a different route; if the hobbit's had ever needed to return to Bree on their own, they might have wandered around for days attempting to retrace their steps and never get anywhere.

Sam brought up the rear of the caravan, leading behind him their new pack pony, a "gift" (a ridiculously expensive one at that) from none other than Bill Ferny. The animal was thin, but seemed content enough to be in the wild despite the weight on its back. Sam dotingly called him Bill, saying it was a poor name for a man, but a fitting one for a gentle beast. 

Samwise was at a loss for all Strider's twisting and turning. He was quite annoyed at all the extra walking, and at length he quickened his pace so that he was astride with Merry and said in a low voice, "What do you suppose he's doin', weavin' all 'round like that? I reckon he's walked us at least three miles we don't need goin' in circles like this. It'll be night before we get anywhere we haven't been before!"

Merry chuckled quietly and glanced at Sam as he pushed the branches of a gnarled bush aside. "It's my guess that he thinks someone is following us. He's putting them off the trail, I'd say," said Merry sagely. 

Sam still was not convinced. He huffed in indignation and pulled at his pack straps. "Puttin' _us_ off the trail, more likely. Letter or no letter, I don't trust him."

"Sam!" exclaimed Pippin, trotting up to his two companions with a grin on his face. "I doubt you would trust any one unless Gandalf himself showed you a list of the accused trustworthy qualities, and even then I am not completely sure. He saved us once last night, remember?"

"And Frodo trusts him at any rate, it seems," Merry finished with a nod off his head towards Frodo. 

Sam bit his lower lip and turned his eyes ahead. Frodo was walking a step's pace behind Strider, not looking at the man but keeping his gaze on the horizon ahead. Sam felt something flutter restlessly in his stomach, like there was a bird trapped in there fighting to get out. He frowned. Last night had been the first time Sam could remember that Frodo hadn't listening to Sam's warning. Samwise knew better than to question his master's judgment, but it had stung sharply when Frodo had turned his eyes away and agreed to trust this rascally looking man with a sword at his side (Sam knew it was broken, but it didn't make him feel any better, not a bit). What if Sam and Merry and Pippin hadn't burst in when they did? Would things still have happened the same? Or would this Strider have taken the Ring, or hurt Frodo, or....or....

Sam would not allow the last thought to be finished. No one would be hurting Frodo while he was around, or his name wasn't Samwise Gamgee! Sam gazed at the back of his master's head, suddenly noticing how the sunshine caught on Frodo's dark curls, how Frodo's shoulders swayed as he walked, how his hands hung delicately at his side. Sam wanted desperately to talk to him, but for some reason his feet refused to move up to where Frodo walked. If only Frodo would turn around.....

Bill nudged Sam from behind, tearing the hobbit from his thoughts. He had fallen behind Merry and Pippin again, and was lagging. Sighing, Sam patted Bill on the nose and continued on after his companions.....

*************************************************************

_Neek-breek....._

Neek-breek....

Neek-breek.....

"I am going to go mad!" Merry exclaimed, flailing his arms wildly about his face in an attempt to shoo away some of the midges that were milling around him, biting any bare patch of skin they could find. 

"I am being eaten alive!" cried Pippin, crossing his arms in an attempt to shelter the exposed flesh at his wrists. "Midgewater! There are more midges than water!" 

They had walked long, over the course of a day, and the sun shined no more. Or perhaps it did, but the clouds of biting midges that buzzed loudly in the faces of the hobbits and the tail and ears of poor Bill made it impossible to see anything but the annoying, tiny insects. 

_Neek-breek..._

Neek-breek....

"Noisome things, whatever they are!" Sam cried, referring to the hidden creatures which made the endless droning "Neek-breek" sound. "Neeker-breekers! Oi!" He slapped at his neck as another midge feasted on his damp skin. "What do they eat when they can't get hobbit?"

"I'd guess pony," conceded Pippin, looking back at the poor beast. "Poor old Bill!" 

"Pippin," Merry called warningly, throwing an over the shoulder glance at his young cousin. "Watch where you are going. You're liable to trip, get tangled in these weeds, and drown."

As if on cue, Pippin caught his foot on something unseen in the water and pitched forward, becoming submerged to his elbows in cold, nasty marsh water. Sam attempted to help Pip up as Merry called ahead for Frodo and Strider to wait. Off balance by trying to pull Pippin up and hold onto Bill at the same time, Sam slipped and fell as well, unfortunately onto Pippin, getting them both stuck even more. 

With a cry of irritation Merry went to help his friends, lifting his knees high as he trudged through the marish. Sam was already struggling to his feet as Pippin said, as he wiped water from his face, "Lawks! Are you trying to drown me?!"

"Drown you? I was trying to help you!" Sam cried. 

"Ha! Villain!" cried Pippin and with a laugh he sent a splash of water into Sam's surprised face. The gardener sputtered and Pippin laughed evilly as Merry wrenched him up to his feet. 

"A swamp's not a place for playin', Master Pippin," Sam declared stoically. "And a lucky thing it is for you." 

A ways away, Frodo stood ankle deep in swampy water with a look of amusement on his face. Strider stood beside him, trying vainly to keep his cloak out of the water as he watched the three hobbits trying to move and maintain their banter at the same time. 

"Are they always like this?" The ranger asked, throwing a sidelong glance down at Frodo. The ring bearer continued to look at his companions, his face lit by a soft love. After a minute more of watching he laughed and looked up at the man, smiling with an undecipherable emotion.

"Only when they are in a dreadfully uncomfortable swamp being eaten by flies, going with a strange man from deadly peril to a place they've only heard of in stories."

Strider smiled, then turned saying, "Collect your friends, Frodo, before the midges do."

*************************************************************

At long last they halted. Merry and Pippin cast themselves on the driest ground the could find, cast their blankets over their heads to try to abate some of the flies (which had not abated, though the neeker-breekers had gone), and tired to sleep. 

Strider pulled out his pipe and sat off to the side, smoking and keeping watch over the makeshift campsite. Sam gave Bill an apple as a reward for surviving the day's journey and settled down beside his master. Frodo smiled wanly as Sam made himself as comfortable as was possible against the bulk of his pack. 

"Seems everywhere I go there's a dirty-great rock or a root diggin' into my back," the gardener muttered as he fidgeted where he sat. "Shame them Sacksville-Bagginses aren't here. This marish would do them good." Frodo laughed softly, then became solemn again. 

"We are far from home," he said simply. "And yet it has not really been that long, has it? Not a month, even." 

"No sir, should be just about the beginning of October. " Sam leaned back and looked up at the sky, which was clear despite the black flecks of the midges. A thousand stars smiled down upon them. Sam hummed, looking at them. 

"How'd they get up there, do you think?" he asked in a whisper. Frodo regarded him with a smile, then he too looked up at the stars. 

"The elves say a Valar put them there. Elbereth, they call her. 'The Star-Kindler." 

He moved closer to Sam's side, so that they were touching arms, and leaned close to Sam's ear. "Remember Earendil, Sam? The mariner who set sail for the stars with a Silmaril on his brow? Look!" With that Frodo pointed to the brightest star in the heavens. Sam's followed the direction Frodo was pointed in to gaze at the fair jewel in the sky. Both smiled and remained quiet for a while, gazing at the lights of the Valar.

"Elbereth...."Sam breathed. "......Elbereth...." He turned and looked at Frodo, his eyes alight with a joyful realization. "It was her that the Elves were singing 'bout that night, wasn't it, Frodo?" 

Frodo's smile grew. Though he probably had not done it on purpose, Sam had left off the 'Mister' before 'Frodo,' for the first time in all the time they had known each other. Turning his eyes back to the stars, he sighed, and found Sam's hand to give it a loving squeeze. 

"Yes, Sam. It was her."

In his secluded area, Strider smiled from behind the curtain of smoke emitted from his pipe and thought of a night when he too had seen the stars, not in the sky, but reflected in the eyes of she who was dearer to him than all else...

Night climbed higher. Still Strider thought. The rest of the campsite slept.

*************************************************************

When Frodo opened his eyes next it was still dark. The gentle snores of Merry and Pippin could be heard a few feet away, and a grunt followed by detached mumbling told Frodo that Sam had finally fallen asleep, despite all his misgivings about Strider. Frodo frowned. What had wakened him? Confused, the hobbit shifted slightly and, still laying down, looked around the campsite once more. Bill the pony pawed the ground restlessly and Frodo smiled knowing he wasn't the only one awake.   
  
A soft voice reached his sensitive hearing, so quiet that it almost melded with the other sounds of the marish. Frodo remained still, his ears straining to catch what the voice was saying. After a moment he realized that the voice was not speaking; it was singing, singing in soft tones elvish words, weaving with the haunting melody the tale of......a woman? Who was singing? Who was this woman?  
  
Curious Frodo sat up, resting his the whole of his weight on his elbows as they propped him up. He saw then, to his amazement, that it was the weather worn voice of Strider that was singing the delicate words. The dark haired man had his back to the hobbit, light tendrils of smoke rising from the pipe he held almost carelessly in his callused hand, and it appeared that he was gazing up at the starlight as he sang, as if searching there for the woman he sang of.  
  
*Who is she?* Frodo wondered, and then realized as Strider turned slightly that he had ventured the question out loud. Blushing slightly, and feeling as if he was intruding, Frodo continued after a beat. "This woman you speak of."  
  
Strider did not turn to regard his half-sized companion, nor did he answer immediately. His head lowered slightly and Frodo saw him raise his pipe to his lips. A moment later the pipe was lowered and a serpent of smoke was released as the man let out a long and slow breath.   
  
"It is the lay of Luthien," Strider said, raising his head so he was looking back out over the dark marsh. "An elven maid who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."   
  
The last was spoken with a strange tone, like a light grief resurfacing at the stirring of a painful memory. Frodo sat quietly, not entirely sure of what to say. Again, his mouth spoke without him thinking about it. "What happened to her?"  
  
Again, Strider bent his scruffy head and took another puff on his pipe. This time he was quiet so long that Frodo thought that he would not answer at all; but then the tall man looked up at the heavens once more and answered softly.   
  
"She died."   
  
Frodo suddenly had the thought that perhaps there was more to Strider's song than the ranger was letting on. Frodo turned his gaze down to study his blanket, suddenly fearful that perhaps Strider was the one Luthien had loved and so died for.   
  
"Did.....did you know her?" Frodo asked cautiously after a long silence had passed.   
  
"Once I believed I had ventured upon her," Strider said very quietly, almost speaking to himself. "But it was a dream." Another puff on his pipe, then these words mingled with the smoke. "Only a dream."   
  
Frodo raised his eyes to look at the silhouetted figure sitting with his back to him a yard or so away. The ranger was now smoking his pipe at his leisure, and his shoulders were squared against the moonlight.   
  
*Just who is this man?* Frodo thought then. *Who is this man who knows Gandalf, who speaks of the elves and claims to be a mere Ranger?* The hobbit knew he would find no answers to these questions at least until they reached Rivendell, but this lack of information did not cause Frodo to be wary of the man. The words in Gandalf's letter came back to him. *Not all those who wander are lost.*   
  
*Perhaps he chooses to wander,* Frodo thought. *Looking for the one he lost...*

Frodo cast a look over the sleeping forms of Merry, Pippin, and Sam. His eyes lingered over Sam, his mind recalling the horrible images from the dream at Bree. Deciding to say no more to Strider on the subject of loss, Frodo curled up alongside his cousins, again took Sam's hand in his, and fell asleep warmed by the presence of his loved ones. 

__

Wishing on a dream that seems far off

Hoping it will come today

Unto the starlit night

Foolish dreamers turn their gaze

Waiting for a shooting star

But, what if that star is not to come

Will their dreams turn to nothing?

When the horizon darkness most

We all need to believe there is hope

Is an Angel watching closely over me?

Can there be a guiding light I've yet to see?

Who will fill this emptiness inside of me?

Am I to be satisfied without knowing?

I wish then for a chance to see

Now all I need, desperately, 

Is my star to guide.....

*************************************************************

A/N: Those references about the Valar and Earendil can be found in the Silmarillion. If you like LotR I suggest you pick it up! The song at the end is from Lunar Star....I couldn't find the name of the singer or producer, but I thought it fit with this chapter wonderfully so I decided to use it anyway.

Again, I apologize for the shortness of this entry and the long delay in updates. I'll do my best to get things updated faster, but I have two stories going on at once. Know this, though: If a story hasn't been updated, I am defiantly working on it. I'll never abandon a fic!

Next chapter:

Weathertop proves the hobbit's worst nightmare, and it seems no amount of light-heartedness will be able to stifle the pain felt by Frodo and Sam as one of their number suffers. 


	9. The One

Simple and Clean

Chapter Nine

A/N: GAAH! ::tears hair out:: I was all set to update speedily and well, it didn't happen like I wanted. This chapter ended up being very long, so I took out Glorfindel and moved him to the next chapter. ::waves goodbye to a sulking Glorfindel:: He is not pleased. At any rate, I couldn't decide on which canon to use for this chapter so I used a bit o' book, a bit o' movie, and a bit o' improvisation. Thus, the whole Weathertop scene is quite different. I have already started Chapter ten and I have some surprises for you all! ::evil laughter::

Oh! Oh! I've almost reached 50 reviews! I love you guys!! ::does silly little dance::

Ah yes, one last thing: Special thanks goes to Violet Raven, who has kindly undertaken the task of beta-ing my fics. Three cheers for VR! Praise her with great praise!

To the reviewers:

Godsgirl8806: Yea! I'm glad you like the story! I try to have as many little details as possible; even if no one really notices them I like doing it. (Its like a private joke, or something.) I'm glad you noticed! You deserve an award! Hmm.....::hands Godsgirl8806 the "I-have-a-genius-eye-for-detail" award.:: 

Violet Raven: *snert* Frodo-Aragorn bonding moments. Hee hee, you know what I thought of when I read that? : ~_Aragorn and Frodo are sitting in a boat, fishing poles in hand. "Frodo, its time we had a talk," says Aragorn. Frodo shrugs and replies "We always talk." Aragorn blushes and clears his throat. "No, I mean *the* talk. Frodo, there comes a time in every young hobbit's life when they begin to go through....changes...."~_ Mwahahahahaha! ::cough:: Sorry, I find silly things amusing. .....heeheehee...

ZoSo Gamgee_Baggins: You know, I'm noticing a trend. Pippin has interrupted our boys no less than three times. I really need to occupy him with something....Thank you for the suggestion about proofreading at least twice. I try to proofread my own stuff, but it doesn't work too well. But now, I have a beta reader! Wheee! Oh, and I saw your entry in your deadjournal. Yes, I am a silly hobbit (a slow one, at that.) Ouch, sunburn....::hands ZoSo ointment::

Ivory Bride: Whee! Ivory Bride reviewed my story!! I can't tell you how much I love your fics; its an honor that you've reviewed mine! I'm glad that you like my story. Thank you for all the lovely compliments! Yes, that Fool of a Took....our Gandalf named him well. Interruptions! Interruptions everywhere! 

Aare: Ah, no worries on the impatience. It makes me feel guilty and thus makes me write more quickly. ^_^ Argh! Apple cannon! ::takes out umbrella:: Ha! ::reads more reviews:: Well, hello again! Here's the update, fast as I could get it. It was a hard bugger to catch....

Bakemono: Yes! Let us all damn the neeker breekers! Everyone together now!! Well now, you have handcuffed Frodo and Sam together. Ah well, you might as well. They don't go far from each other very often, now do they? Oh, but now the rest of the Fellowship is sulking because they don't have a handcuff buddy. ::pats Boromir on the head:: There, there. Good man of Gondor.....

hildoriel: Addiction! Oh no! ::quickly gives hildoriel new chapter:: There ya be....nice reviewers....nice reviewers....

Chapter Nine

The One

As a rule, most rangers were well traveled. Strider had probably been farther than all, and probably knew more about the wildlife and creatures of Middle Earth than most. He knew the histories of Elves and Men, knew their cultures and their governments. He knew the language of the High Elves and could speak it fluently. But for all that Aragorn son of Arathorn knew, he soon learned that he had much to discover about hobbits. In the seven days he had been traveling with the four hobbits, he had discovered three things for sure: 1. Hobbits, especially young hobbits, were perpetually hungry. And they didn't take missing meals very well. 2. They were by no means well traveled nor used to long stretches of walking; but this didn't hinder their boisterous spirits. True, they grumbled when woken up after only a few hours sleep, but after an hour or so they were merry again, singing and quarreling amongst themselves. And 3. The four hobbits shared a very close bond. Whether this was normal or not Aragorn did not know, but he saw it in his four small companions, a brotherhood that had nothing to do with blood or heritage. They gained strength from one another, they protected one another. More than one morning the Ranger had gone to rouse the hobbits and found them huddled up against one another in a haphazard pile; much like a litter of puppies. During meal times (and these were frequent despite Strider's discouraging of them), they would sit and chat as if they were at a cozy inn somewhere, not in the wilderness fleeing from the minions of the Dark Lord. Often they would try to include the ranger in their banter, asking him endless questions. Peregrin was particularly inquisitive. A stream of questions poured out of his small mouth nearly every waking moment, until at last Samwise had given him an apple to silence him. 

They were chattering even now, with Strider still leading them like a mother duck leading her chicks. It was an analogy that had been grudgingly thought up by Sam, who's faith in the long-legged man was still wavery. True, Sam no longer shot angry glares in the ranger's direction and he did listen intently to the stories Strider told and even smiled a few times, but he still stayed forever close to Frodo, trying his best to keep up with his master while leading Bill the pony. At night, though all the hobbits slept close, Sam lay nearest to Frodo. Strider noticed that Frodo and Sam's hands often found each other at night, fingers intertwined tightly as if each was trying to reassure the other that they were still there. The ranger had seen Frodo accidentally brush lips with his servant back in Bree but had wisely not said a word about it. Frodo certainly had not seemed inclined to bring up the incident, and Sam gave no sign that he remembered it happening at all. Yet Strider's eyes were keen, and more than once he caught a gleam in the two hobbits' eyes as they glanced at each other, a gleam that meant perhaps Frodo's "accidental kiss" hadn't really been an accident at all. 

"What do you reckon Rivendell will be like, Mr. Frodo?" 

Sam's baritone, lilting voice reached Strider's ears, followed by Merry's laughter. 

"Do you mean to tell me that after listening to all Bilbo's stories about it you can not picture it for yourself, Sam?" The Brandybuck chided. 

"I was just wonderin' what Mr. Frodo thought," Sam replied indignantly. He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Folk used to say that you visited the elves in Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, but we've been walkin' for more than a week and I don't remember you bein' gone for so long as this, unless you were held up over in Buckland." 

Frodo chuckled. "Ah, but how do you know I really was not making secret expeditions to Rivendell when you were at home tending my beautiful gardens thinking I was in Buckland with Merry?" 

Sam made a small sound, as if the idea had never struck him. Merry continued the ploy. 

"Why cousin Frodo, you were in Buckland? Why ever didn't you stop by to see us; we would have been glad to have you! I have never seen head or foot of you in Buckland since you took up residence at Bag End with Bilbo!" Merry exclaimed dramatically. Pippin giggled childishly. Strider glanced over his shoulder and saw Sam slowly break into a smile. 

"Oh, a right fine pair of jokesters you two are," he said fondly. "Don't think I don't know that look in your eye, Mr. Frodo." 

Frodo laughed, high and clear. "There's no fooling you, dear Sam. The rumors you heard were mere gossip; I honestly have no idea how they get started. Bilbo has told me all about The Last Homely House but I have never seen it save in my own imagination. And after all your talk of the elves I would not dream about going to see them without you, Sam." 

"Strider!" Pippin's high voice spoke up suddenly. The ranger almost winced, certain that the next words out of young Peregrin's mouth would be something along the lines of "It is time for our mid-afternoon/ early evening/pre-dinner/post luncheon meal!" However, this time Pippin had something of another matter to say. "You are leading us to Rivendell, you must have been there before, or at least seen it. What is it like?"

"Yes do tell us!" Merry joined in. "It would be quite rude of us to reach the place and not notice where we are; or be unprepared for the sight of it and be standing with our mouths agape when the elves come to greet us." 

"I have dwelt much in Imladris," Strider said at length. "The way there is well hidden and well guarded." He paused and when he wasn't interrupted by questions of how and why the city was guarded he continued. "The House of Elrond is set in a valley, beset by waterfalls that shine with many colors and trees that do not fade in winter. The dwellings of the elves look as if they sparkle with silver and there is light always there, be it from sun or moon. There are gardens there that perfume the air with the sweetness of flowers and fruit, for the land is blessed and gives to blossoms year round. Everything is living there, and the very air you breathe will heal you of wounds in the soul and body. No evil befouls it, but the number of the elves living there has diminished greatly." 

"We saw a company of elves in the Shire," Frodo said. "I supposed that they were crossing the sea, like the old stories tell us." 

Strider nodded. "The elves are leaving these shores. They are not bound to its fate as we are. Some will not make the journey, not yet, for there are some who love Middle Earth dearer than any paradise they can fathom. But they will all pass, eventually." Then the ranger fell back into silent thought and try as they could, the hobbits could get him to say no more on the subject. 

They walked perhaps an hour longer, the hills in the distance getting closer and closer, until at last before them was a plateau, with a path carved up to the top of it. Stone parapets protruded from the top of the hill like a giant crown set atop a domed head. Even in the midday sun it looked shadowed, as if it held certain places the sun could not warm. It reminded Sam of the Barrow-downs almost. He did not like the way it looked, and apparently, neither did Merry.

"I wonder who made that path and what it was for," the Brandybuck said. "I am not sure that I like it. It has a ...well, a rather barrow wightish look to it."

Strider shook his dark head. "There is no barrow on Weathertop. The Men of the West did not live here, though in their latter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. But long before, they built a great watchtower on Weathertop. The watchtower Amon Sul, they called it. But it was burned and broken long ago. What you see is all the remains of it." 

"How cheerful," Pippin groaned. "I suppose you are going to tell us that we will be resting there tonight." 

"If you can find a more sheltered place on the road, then by all means please inform me about it. The air is already chill; it will be frigid tonight. The fortress will give us protection from the cold, as well as a vantage point to see our enemies before they see us," Strider replied. Pippin sighed but made no further protests. Frodo looked up at the former watchtower and could not help but shudder. He briefly touched the Ring in his pocket and turned his gaze away from the hill. Strider was right; the air was chill. What day was it? Frodo did the math quickly in his head. September had faded and it was now October. October the sixth, to be exact. 

******************************************************************************

Weathertop was just as dreary up close as it had been from afar. The climb up the hill was rocky and slightly steep; Sam and Pippin were panting by the time they reached an area Strider deemed suitable for a camp. They laid out their packs and Sam removed some of the burden from Bill, who seemed content enough and rooted around in the dirt while they set up camp. 

Frodo collapsed with a relieved sigh against his pack and closed his eyes, passing a hand over them. It felt so nice to finally be able to sit; Frodo's eyelids already felt heavy and he knew that he would sleep deeply that night, even in this foreboding place. There was a scuffling sound beside him and Frodo opened his eyes to see Sam on his knees beside him, rooting through his oversized pack. Frodo watched him for a while before Sam realized it and turned to regard his master with a small smile. 

"Strider says it'd be safe for us to make a fire," the gardener said, turning back to his pack. "Says them black riders don't like it much. Mr. Merry and Master Pippin are goin' to go see if they can't find us some firewood and I thought I'd make us somethin' to eat." He pulled out a small tea kettle and one of his cooking pans from the pack and turned once again to Frodo. "Are you hungry, Mr. Frodo?" 

"Famished, actually." 

Sam gave Frodo another smile and nodded. "You should be. You haven't had two bites of anything almost all day. You're gonna be thin as a tree branch by the time we reach Rivendell, if you keep this up."

"Its hardly my fault, Sam," Frodo said with a good-natured laugh. "Merry and Pippin are fetching firewood and you are cooking. What may I do to help?" 

Sam flushed at Frodo's asking him, the servant, what he could do to help but Sam sat back and thought for a moment, knowing that if he refused to let Frodo help he would be awfully put out. 

"Well," Sam said slowly, thinking. "You could feed Bill for me, if you'd like to, though I think he's eaten more than the five of us put together. I'm sure he'd take another apple from you, Mr. Frodo, if you'd want to try." 

"Certainly!" Frodo said enthusiastically, thrilled that Sam wasn't insisting he rest. Perhaps they were becoming closer to equals, like Frodo wanted. Sam told him where to find the apples and left his master with a smile to go begin dinner. Frodo could hear him whistling as he readied things; it was comforting and made some of the gloom of Weathertop fade. 

Frodo stretched and yawned before going to Sam's pack and searching inside for the bag of apples the gardener had stowed in there. Everything had been jumbled together when Sam had searched for the tea kettle and pan, so that the bag was at the bottom. Frodo had to lean in to reach it and as he did so he was met with a scent of earth, cotton, and crisp fruit. Frodo breathed in deeply as he reached for the bag and thought of Bag End, of himself in Sam's arms after the rainstorm, of the scent of rain and flowers, of the feel of Sam's lips against his own at the inn in Bree. At that thought Frodo felt his face flush pink and was glad his back was to the gardener. 

He took the bag of apples and went over to the pony, who regarded him expectantly. He nipped at Frodo's sleeve as Frodo took out an apple and held it out to the pony. Bill looked at him for a moment, studying him with beast's eyes, then accepted the proffered fruit. Frodo stroked the animal's neck as Bill chewed. 

"I'm not sure what it is about him," Frodo whispered, looking over at Sam, who was pouring water from the water skins into the tea kettle. "I think perhaps that its everything about him...." Frodo looked at Bill. "What do you think?" Bill just nipped again at Frodo's sleeve, wanting another apple. 

****************************************************************************

"A job well done, Sam, very well done!" Merry exclaimed, laying his now empty plate beside him. 

"Indeed! Now, if only we had some ale to wash it all down with...." Pippin added, extending his hands out to warm them by the fire which now crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows over the fortress wall behind them. 

The sun had set but the small fire had managed to chase away most of the fear from the place. Only Strider still sat on the edge of the camp, watchful eyes searching the ground below. They cleaned up the remnants of dinner but left the fire going and added more wood from the good sized pile Merry and Pippin had gathered. 

Sam returned the tea kettle and pan to his pack and glanced over at Frodo, who was hunched closely to the fire. Sam saw him shiver slightly and then reached back into his bulky pack and pulled out his thickest blanket. After closing the fastenings on the pack, Sam returned to the fire and wordlessly settled the blanket on Frodo's shoulders. Frodo jumped at the sudden touch, then saw his friend and smiled. 

"Thank you, Sam," he said. Sam shrugged slightly and nodded, then sat back down beside Frodo. The air had grown much colder, and now a cold wind began to blow, making the flames turn with the breeze. Merry blew on his hands and gave Frodo a sidelong glance. 

"Well, if you aren't perfectly snug and warm," he said. 

Pippin also looked at his cousin, then broke into a grin and crawled over to Frodo's other side. "Did you take Sam's blanket?"

Frodo scooted away and pulled the blanket tighter around his body, smirking. "No, he lent it to me out of the pure kindness of his heart. And no, I shan't share with you, Peregrin Took. Go fetch one of your own."

Pippin frowned. "But my pack is all the way over there." He pointed. 

Merry sighed. "Oh for pity's sake." Then he stood and went to his own pack, took out his own blanket, and unfurled it with a flapping motion. He returned to the fire and Pippin immediately went over to him. Merry opened the blanket up obligingly and Pippin snuck in, so that the two of them were wrapped in the blanket. 

Frodo looked at Sam. The gardener held his arms across his chest, fingers gripping his upper arms tightly. It was apparent that he was trying not to shiver, but as another gust of chilled air blew, he lost his resolve and his shoulders shuddered. Frodo hesitated a moment, then scooted a little closer to Sam and opened the blanket, laying one side over Sam's shoulders, leaving the other side over his own. Sam started and looked at Frodo in surprise. The elder hobbit smiled slightly. Sam looked from Frodo, to Merry and Pippin, and then back to Frodo again before deciding that this situation was not "improper" and relaxed a bit. Frodo returned his gaze to the fire. 

Sam felt a slow blush creeping into his cheeks. The blanket was decent sized but not huge, and he and Frodo had to sit very close. Not that they hadn't sat that close before; there was just something about being huddled under that blanket together, sides touching, that made Sam blush. For a while they sat in comfortable silence, taking in the warmth of each other's bodies, each feeling every small movement the other made. Then Strider began to speak, to tell them stories of old lore and ancient times, and eventually sitting that close didn't feel awkward any more. In fact, it felt....it felt as if it was supposed to be that way. Sam wasn't even aware that Frodo had taken his hand until he felt his master give it a gentle squeeze upon Strider finishing the tale of Beren and Luthien. 

"_Through halls of iron and darkling door,_

And woods of nightshade morrowless

The Sundering Seas between them lay

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless"

The ranger finished speaking and all was silent for a while, save for the crackling of the fire. At length, it was Merry who spoke. 

"Can you imagine such a love?" he asked incredulously. " Can you imagine loving another person so much that you would give up immortality to be with them?" 

Strider stood and walked away from the fire without a word. They looked after him, and Frodo recalled the night several days ago, when he had heard the ranger singing the Lay of Luthien and seen the look of sadness in his eyes. 

Sam felt Frodo squeeze his hand again, but his master's eyes were on the tall ranger. No one spoke any words until the moon was high above the hill, bathing the camp in white moonlight. Then, Merry said, "The moon is high. It must be late." 

Frodo nodded, and looked back into the fire. He suddenly felt very cold and exposed, even under the thick blanket. He released Sam's hand and hugged himself about the knees. The blanket fell from his shoulders onto the stony ground. Sam moved to retrieve it, but then Bill started fussing, making tiny frightened noises and stamping his feet. All the hobbits, except for Frodo, looked over at the pony. Sam tsked and stood up. 

"What's gotten him all worked up?" He mused, walking over to the pony. Frodo tore his eyes away from the fire and watched as Sam petted the pony's neck, trying to calm the beast. Frodo felt as if something was crawling on his neck and reached back to swat it away, but there was nothing there, nothing but the wind. 

Bill was beginning to panic. He stomped and reared back slightly; Sam grabbed at the leather bridle and tried to hold the beast still. "What's the matter with you?" Sam demanded, fear creeping into his voice. Strider was paying attention now. He stepped back towards the fire, his hand groping for the hilt of the sword by his side. 

"Quiet him, Sam!" the ranger hissed. "We do not want to draw any more unwanted attention."

"I'm tryin' to, Mr. Strider, but somethin's got him awfully spooked," Sam protested, trying to restrain the pony. 

Frodo swallowed heavily. Something was not right. Bill was nearest to the path and Sam was standing in a way so that his back was to the entrance. The crawling feeling on the back of Frodo's neck moved down his back and into his belly. He stood up. 

"Sam...." he said, his voice far more unsteady than he had intended. He swallowed and tried again. "Sam, the path..."

"Is it wolves?" Pippin asked, terror evident in his voice. He and Merry stood as well, huddled close together behind the fire. His question went unanswered. 

*_Frodo...*_

Frodo's blood chilled. That voice....the ring.....it wasn't wolves, no, Frodo was sure.

"Sam, come back over here," Frodo said, his voice stronger now. Sam shot him a helpless look from next to the rearing pony. 

"Merry, Pippin.." Strider said, his voice low and cautious. "Pick up some of the unburned logs and keep them near. Do not light them, not yet, but keep them ready."

"Why?" Pippin asked, though he moved to comply. Strider did not answer immediately, he just continued to watch the path below and the plains far away. 

_*Ashi...*_

Frodo's hand went to the hilt of the sword he had picked up in the Barrow-downs, but he did not draw it. His other hand raised up to his jacket pocket, where the ring lay hidden. It was still there, but it felt suddenly heavy, a weight in Frodo's mind and he felt as if he was being watched...the image of the great burning eye flashed in Frodo's mind. He started and could stay where he was no longer. Keeping his hand on his sword hilt, Frodo went to Sam's side and grabbed a hold of Bill's bridle. The pony bucked and screeched. 

"Bill, Bill, come on now!" Sam pleaded. 

"Frodo, Sam!" Strider called suddenly, his voice very loud in the cold air. "Get back near the fire now!" 

And then, as if in answer to Strider's call, a high pitched scream rolled up from the plains, echoing off the stone pillars and statues of Weathertop. Then another cry answered it, and then another. Pippin let a strangled sob escape him. Sam and Frodo's eyes met over the now frantic pony. 

"It's them..." Frodo whispered, his eyes locked on Sam's. He could see the terror in his companion's eyes and knew that he could do nothing to make it go away. A fourth scream tore sounded, this one closer. Sam jumped and left Bill's side, grabbing Frodo's arm and pulling him backwards, away from the path and towards the fire. 

"Keep close to the fire with your faces outward!" cried Strider. They followed his instruction, eyes full of horror watching the shadows that now seemed to jump everywhere. Frodo drew his sword as did Sam. For a while there was no sound save for frightened breathing and the crack and sizzle of the fire. The silence grew to be suffocating; Frodo thought that if he did not say something then he would snap and go mad with the waiting. 

"Sam," he said in a hoarse whisper. 

"Right here Mr. Frodo."

"Hush!" whispered Strider.

"What's that!?" Pippin gasped. 

A shadowy figure pulled itself into the dell, a long and gleaming sword held tight in one clawed hand. Frodo's breath froze in his throat, and he felt Sam shrink to his side. Frodo remembered the dream he had had, remembered the Ring glowing (his hand flew to his pocket to cover it), remembered Sam trying to deter the horrid black cloaked figures (and here they were coming; the dream was coming true...), remembered Sam's stunned face as blood wept from the chest wound. 

"No, no, no, no..." Frodo muttered, backing up slightly, his hand still protectively over the Ring. The Ring! If it was gone then the black riders would leave as well; they only pursued because of the Ring. It was simple; if Frodo put on the Ring, then he could sneak away and lead the Nazgul away from his friends. Yes, if he put on the Ring he could remain unseen and still draw the evil riders away. 

*No, no!* some rational part of Frodo's mind screamed. * No, fool, remember what Gandalf said!" 

But it was too late. Frodo could not help himself and gasped in surprise as he felt the cold band slide over his finger. He had put the Ring on again. 

******************************************************************************

Frodo vanished before Sam's astonished eyes. He turned, calling Frodo's name wildly, groping with fright at the place where his master had stood a mere moment before. Then the world exploded in a burst of motion. 

The wraith charged, sword point held outward. Sam leapt out of the way, feeling for the barrow sword that hung at his hip, though he had never used it before and was certain that it would do little against this evil enemy. Three more crept over the ridge and into the dell, moving noiselessly, save for the unnatural screeches they let out periodically. A cold chill found its way into Sam's heart as they approached the fire; he heard a small strangled sound and realized that he himself had uttered it. One of the wraiths turned its hooded head towards him, and it was faceless, it was nothingness, just a black void, and empty space in the dark hood. It emanated sorrow and pain, it radiated anger and frustration; it was a pure hatred that came out of that void. Sam felt a wild scream rising in his throat, but when he opened his mouth he could make no sound. He tried to take in a deep breath, but his throat had constricted and would allow only a short haggard intake of air. Then the thing spoke, or rather hissed, its voice like that of a resurrected corpse, a dead voice, or one that should have been. 

"_Ashi.." _it husked. "_Ashi..." _

Sam could do nothing but shake his head over and over, until at last the wraith turned its empty face away. 

Suddenly a voice cried out, clear but seemingly far away: "_A Elbereth! Gilthoniel!_" No elvish voice was it; it was the voice of Frodo! Then the lead Nazgul let out a mighty scream, and plunged his gleaming sword into a foe unseen. 

"_Elbereth!" _Crying the name of the star-kindler, Strider leapt into the group of Nazgul brandishing a flaming log, sweeping it in front of him angrily, fending the ring-wraiths off. One of the dark cloaks caught fire and it shrieked in agony and fell back, running back out of the dell. The others fell onto the Ranger, who now pulled his sword and used it to compliment the burning log. Merry and Pippin had to scamper out of the way as Strider drew the Nazgul to the other side of the fire. They shrank against the fortress wall, Merry protectively in front of Pippin. They watched the fight with wide eyes, their own swords forgotten. 

Then suddenly a scream filled with agony ripped through the camp, and a moment later Frodo reappeared, blood staining his cloak and jacket. His left hand still clenched the Ring tightly. 

"Frodo!" Sam cried, forgetting all else and rushing to his master's side. Frodo had been injured in the right shoulder, stabbed by the leader of the Nazgul while under the invisibility of the Ring. Now the right arm lay motionless, and when Sam grasped Frodo's hand it was cold and clammy to the touch. 

"Oh Sam...." Frodo breathed, looking into Sam's face with eyes clouded by pain and fear. He looked ready to swoon; he was so terrified that he was quaking. Sam's heart broke at the sight, and he took his master into his arms, being careful of the injured shoulder, and said over and over "It'll be alright, Mr. Frodo, it'll be alright. Your Sam's here now." 

"Sam, oh, dear Sam, don't let them take it... do not let them take it...." Frodo mumbled, half in a delirium. 

"Hush now, Mr. Frodo, no one's gonna be takin' anything from you," Sam soothed. 

The ring wraiths screamed, but they were defeated for the moment. The fled from the camp, shrieks fading into the darkness. 

"I saw them, Sam, saw what they are beneath all the black robes. They are terrible, terrible! And they tried to take It, Sam; the pale king with the iron crown, he tried to take it!" Frodo's eyes were wild. He held the ring tighter to his chest. 

"Hush, Mr. Frodo, hush!"

"They shall not have it!" Round, frantic eyes locked onto Sam's. "You, you must protect it!" Frodo declared, then he shuddered and the world plunged into darkness for him. 

******************************************************************************

Frodo woke to the feel of someone cradling him. His shoulder throbbed angrily, and it felt as if there was something warm and wet on his forehead. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the concerned eyes of Samwise Gamgee looking down at him. It was the most beautiful sight he could have wished to wake up to. 

"Sam.." Frodo croaked; his mouth was dry and his throat parched, but that did not matter to Sam. His dear one was awake again! 

"Mr. Frodo, can you hear me alright?" Sam asked, laying a hand along Frodo's cheek. Frodo turned his face into Sam's touch, trying to understand what had happened. 

"I can hear you fine, Sam." 

Somebody removed the wet cloth from Frodo's forehead and replaced it with another, warmer one. Frodo glanced up and caught a glimpse of Merry. 

"Strider chased those wraiths off," The Brandybuck explained. "He told us we were to keep you warm at all costs." 

"Keep me..." Frodo shifted, trying to get a better look around. His shoulder screamed with the slight movement; a whimper escaped Frodo's lips and Sam tightened his grip around his master, his brown eyes wide with concern. 

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed. "You just stay still; your Sam will look after you."

"My Sam..." Frodo let out a sharp breath and closed his eyes; the light of the fire was almost painfully bright. His shoulder still throbbed, now even more sharply, and he was having trouble maintaining coherent thoughts. A heavy fog had fallen upon Frodo's mind, cold and steadily growing. He wanted to return to sleep, if only to escape the pain in his shoulder and the shadow in his mind. 

Merry's voice drifted to Frodo's ears. It sounded muffled and distant, as if being heard through a wall, but the words could still be made out. "Has he fainted again?" 

Frodo felt Sam shift, but he felt the movement from a million miles away and the ring bearer did not respond. 

"I don't know..... he's so pale...." Sam's normally strong voice was thin and hoarse, barely audible in the fog that clouded Frodo's thoughts. "'S'all my fault. If I hadn't a-just stood there...." 

"We are just as at fault as you are," Merry said. "And so is he, for putting that thing on again. Gracious, cousin, what were you thinking?" 

Put on...The ring! Where was it? Frodo's eyes snapped open and he sat up so quickly that Sam gasped and Frodo felt dizzy. "The Ring, the Ring!" Frodo exclaimed, trying to ignore the dizziness and the pain that now shot through his entire body. "Where did it go? Have I lost it?" 

"Frodo!" Merry cried, kneeling beside his cousin and trying to ease him back down into Sam's arms. "You've still got it! You haven't let go of it since that thing stabbed you; its still in your hand!" 

Frodo stared at his cousin, sweat starting to bead on his forehead from all the activity. He looked down at his hand. It was still fisted tightly. Frodo stared at his hand then slowly uncurled it. The Ring still lay on his palm, gold glinting in the firelight. He still had it. The wraiths hadn't gotten it. He hadn't failed yet.

"Oh...." The adrenaline gone, Frodo's body lurched with pain and nausea. His head felt unbelievably heavy and he swayed, closing his fist around the Ring once again. Sam's arms went around Frodo's waist, supporting him, warming him, protecting him. Frodo groaned and laid his head against Sam's shoulder; felt Sam's hand stroke his curls. Frodo shut his eyes again and this time sleep took him swiftly. 

*****************************************************************************

The next few days passed in a blur for Frodo. His arm had gone numb and the coldness was spreading throughout his entire side. He slept often, and when he was awake the chilled fog crept over his mind, secluding him from the waking world. During the day things faded to a ghostly gray; at night the shadows multiplied, trying to choke the injured hobbit with their darkness. 

Sam stayed by Frodo's side constantly as they walked towards Rivendell. He ate very little and slept even less. At night, he held his master by the fire, trying to warm him with his body heat to no avail. As the days wore on, the weather turned wet, and Frodo grew worse. Merry and Pippin grew anxious, and Pippin was terrified that his cousin would die. He tearfully tried to get Strider to reassure him, but the Ranger had few words of comfort on the road. He knew why Frodo grew more ill day by day, even though the wound in his shoulder was not deep and would heal in time. It was not the wound that caused Frodo pain, it was what had caused the injury: a Morgul blade, a weapon of the enemy used to enslave those that were injured by it. Strider was well learned in the devises of the Dark Lord, and he feared that Frodo still carried a shard of the blade deep within his wound. They needed to reach Rivendell as quickly as possible. Frodo needed the skill of the elves. 

They kept on, eventually following the same path that Bilbo and the dwarves had taken all those years ago. They halted after a long day of walking in the shadow of the trolls that had turned to stone while arguing about the best way to cook a dwarf. Sam looked at the hulking statues miserably. If they had been there under any other circumstances, Sam would have been overjoyed; but all the trolls did now was remind him of Bilbo's adventure when he first found the Ring. 

The Ring was now hidden in Frodo's pocket, laying silent and undisturbed, despite Frodo's shivering and tossing. Merry, Pippin, and Sam surrounded their companion, wiping his sweating brow and bathing his wound with warmed water. Pippin tried to distract Frodo from his pain by telling him stories, but as night fell, Frodo could barely hear him. He was becoming lost in the wraith world. 

The night wore on, slowly. Sam gazed down at Frodo's face, so pale and drawn. He held his master's right hand between his own, trying to somehow warm in and chase away the numbness. 

"Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered, though Frodo was fitfully asleep and could not hear Sam anyway. "You've gotta get better. We've gotta go home, remember?" He brought Frodo's cold hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles gently. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, I've failed you somethin' awful. But if you'll just get better then I promise you, I'll protect you always and nothin'll ever hurt you like this again, not while your Sam is near. And I won't leave you, no sir, not for anything, not ever again. That's a promise, sir, a promise I'm makin' you." Tears began to build in Sam's eyes; he let them fall unheeded. "See, Mr. Frodo, I meant what I said 'bout home bein' where you are. Even if I have to follow you into the black lands themselves, I'll be home as long as you're with me." He kissed the frozen hand again and ran his hand over Frodo's forehead. It too was chilled, icy to the touch. Sam's heart caught in his chest; how could he have allowed this to happen?! 

"Frodo, me dear," Sam whispered through a veil of tears. "I've something to say to you, so you'd best not go leavin' me. I've got to tell you....." He bent and kissed Frodo's forehead. A salty tear fell upon Frodo's cheek, warm sorrow against cold flesh. Sam blinked at it, then wiped it away gently with the back of his sun-browned hand. From deep within his misty sleep Frodo felt the touch and like a flower bending towards the sun he turned into the caress. Sam sighed and keeping his one hand against Frodo's cheek he pulled the blanket tighter around the both of them. 

"Has he woken yet?" asked Merry suddenly, making Sam jump. The Gamgee had not been aware that anyone had been watching his brief soliloquy, but apparently both Merry and Pippin had been watching and listening from their places by the fire. Strider stood several feet away as usual, but he seemed oddly attentive. Had everyone been listening then? Sam decided that it didn't matter if they had; he was too tired and heart sick to care much. He shook his head in response to Merry's question, but otherwise made no response and both Merry and Pippin turned back to the fire, huddled up to each other against the cold. Sam was left to his own thoughts, his own fears, and his own love for a certain hobbit that lay injured and fading before him. Samwise Gamgee held his beloved in his arms and wept as if his tears could recall Frodo from the shadows. And as he wept he could have sworn that he heard, beneath the crackle of the fire and the sounds of the forest, dry laughter and a voice whispering: *_failure...*_

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry  
You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you  
Tell you I need you  
Tell you I set you apart  
  
Tell me your secrets  
And ask me your questions  
Oh let's go back to the start

Running in circles  
Coming up tails  
Heads on a silence apart  
  
Nobody said it was easy  
It's such a shame for us to part  
_Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be this hard  
  
Oh take me back to the start  
  
I was just guessing  
At numbers and figures  
Pulling your puzzles apart_

Questions of science  
Science and progress  
Do not speak as loud as my heart  
  
Tell me you love me  
Come back and haunt me  
Oh and I rush to the start

Running in circles  
Chasing our tails  
_Coming back as we are  
  
Nobody said it was easy  
Oh it's such a shame for us to part  
Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be so hard  
  
I'm going back to the start_

******************************************************************************

Lyrics: The Scientist-Coldplay

Ashi: The one

A/N:I had this posted before I could edit it, so if you reviewed before I'm sorry! You can review again if you'd like, but other wise I'll respond to the ones you already have posted. 

Next chapter: Sam and Frodo come face to face with an elf who seems to know more about them than he lets on (and no, it ain't Legolas....::grumbles:: stupid Bakshi movie....). Frodo flees to the Ford, leaving his friends behind him. The elf has much to say, but only in riddles and he leaves Sam with more questions than answers. Then, at Rivendell, Elrond declares that Frodo must be kept warm at all costs until the morgul shard can be removed. And what is this? Men, in the elven city? Who is this man with the white tree upon his armor? 


End file.
